


Templar to Mage to WHAT?

by VievaWood



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VievaWood/pseuds/VievaWood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elaine Trevelyan wanted to be a templar.  She wanted to fight, to have some choices in her life.  Her parents sent her to Fereldan to train, to spread their influence.  Only then it proved she was mageborn, and it all went wrong from there.</p>
<p>This story starts off canon-ish, but diverges more and more.  The main events are the same, but the choices made are the ones I wanted to make, not the ones I had available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeking a New Start

It was shockingly easy to join the pilgrims going to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Conclave meant nobles, and the nobles meant families, merchants, minstrels and bards and everything else one could imagine. Eight more people didn't draw any notice, even if those eight only included one adult. For the first time since – well. For the first time since it was discovered that I had magic, I felt like I could relax.

“Ellie, do you have to go?” Toby asked, holding my waist. “We could keep running.”

I sighed, knelt, and hugged him. “We agreed, sweet. This is the only way to make sure you kids get a real future. This is where the decisions are going to be made, and we have to try and make sure they're good ones.”

“Then you should take us with you.”

“No. There are no phylacteries on you, so if this all goes wrong, you can still run for it. If I could, I'd have left you even farther away. This is your best chance of safety.”

Toby still didn't let go. “What about your safety?”

“I'm not the one they wanted. If it's safe, I'll fetch you as quickly as I can, or send someone. You remember the phrase?”

“Whirlwind in flight.”

I stood. Dusted myself off. “I do expect to come back and get you,” I said, “and we'll make a decision from there. I believe this Conclave is in good faith. But faith only goes so far.” I glanced at Lori over Toby's head. Of all of them, she was the most adult, the most capable if something went wrong. Maker, let nothing go wrong. “Watch over them until I get back.”

She straightened, nodded. None of us let tears fall.

We all knew there was a real chance this was goodbye.

 

I thought about the chaos as I went up the path towards the actual temple. So many people had said it would blow over, that it was no big deal. That it was a few malcontents. So many people wanted to believe that it would all go away, as though refusing to see a problem made it disappear.

There was a functionary just inside the temple doors, of course, vetting people and trying to make sure only the right sorts came in. Sort of person that actually believed nobility meant more than inbreeding. I drew myself up to my not very imposing height, looking down my overly long nose at him. I knew I looked horrible, even though I'd taken the time to wash and try to fix my hair before coming up. But there wasn't much that could be done with muddy brown hair and muddy brown eyes and loose mercenary gear I'd picked up along the way. At least the looseness of the clothing hid the fact that I was no court-pampered lady, but built for a fight. “Lady Elaine Trevelyan of Ostwick,” I told him, using every elocution trick I'd learned before I'd been sent off to be a templar. When being a Trevelyan needed to be taught first, that I always knew where my loyalty was supposed to lie. “For the Conclave. Forgive my appearance, but there were bandits along the road. I'd expected them to be cleared out.”

He got all flustered. “I'm sorry, Lady Trevelyan, you weren't expected,” he said, going through his papers. “I'm afraid we don't have anything suitable ready for you.”

I stared down my nose at him. “This is a pilgrimage in humility, as well, is it not? I shall take whatever you have available.” I sniffed. “It is the least I can do.”

He called over a page, they muttered at each other, papers were waved at each other. I stood there and looked above all their petty problems, all the while wishing for nothing so much as a chair. But the role I was playing would never ask for such a thing, so I stood there. And waited. And, finally, was led to a tiny little room, told when services and meals were, and blissfully left alone.

Alone. I hadn't been alone in so long. Almost two years, now, since I'd caused the fire in the Ostwick phylactery room and run off with the children. Two years since they'd wanted to make Toby Tranquil, saying he would be more useful as an artisan than a mage.

Two years, and here I was in the Chantry again, hoping someone else had an answer. There was irony in that. Somewhere. I had a hysterical thought that I should beg for forgiveness before I was hit by lightning.

Of course, it was far too late for that. I held my fingers apart and watched the lightning zap between them. I'd committed the worst sin of all, for someone learning to be a templar. I'd been mageborn the whole time.

Never mind I hadn't known. My parents had, but had thought sending me to the templars would fix me, somehow change me so I wasn't mageborn. That I'd suppress myself or something. Who knows, it might have worked – had we been given lyrium as children. More likely, I would have set the entire place on fire, though.

Instead, I'd instinctively healed. One of the other trainees had dodged the wrong way, gotten in my way while I was sparring with someone else, and I whacked him hard. I'd run over to check on my friend, and been horrified at the blood pouring from his nose. And made it stop by healing it.

I don't think he realized what I'd done. I hadn't even realized it. But the instructor had, and that night I was bundled out of the barracks and sent about as far across Thedas as it was possible to get, that there might never be a conflict between the fact that I was a mage and the templar friends I'd made when I'd thought I was one of them.

I'd never even gotten to say goodbye. Far as I knew, I'd just disappeared on them.

Now I was back in Fereldan. The boy I'd healed that fateful day was now king, even. Which was weird, the thought of Alistair as a king. Or really, anything but a goofball. I wondered if he remembered me. If I could throw the children on his mercy if things went badly here. I'd heard he'd given mages refuge in Redcliffe.

I wish I trusted the rebels. That they could look at me and not see a templar, just as the templars looked at me and saw a mage. Or, and here was a crazy thought – that anyone could look at me and see a person. Even that annoying functionary had only seen me when he thought I was a noble. Not a person.

Snippets of the Chant reached my ear as I lay there. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” I remembered when that line was my calling. My cause. I would fight for those that needed fighting for. My sword against the darkness. Blessed. Blessed my ass.

At least there was a bed, and food, and no one trying to kill me or my children at the moment. For that I was grateful.

And in the meantime, I needed to go to services and wear my pious person hat and make sure everyone saw the person they wanted to see – a minor member of a noble Marcher family, a token sent for the sake of appearance. Not mage or templar. Why, I didn't even carry a staff!

First thing I'd ditched, actually. Everyone expected a mage to carry a staff. No one expected a dagger directing lightning. No one expected anything except what they were used to seeing.

I went to services and played good little noble, smiling at people and saying nothing. And worried.

The people that needed to be here, that actually had some kind of power still in this horrible mess, weren't here. No Lord Seeker. No Grand Enchanter. They'd each sent someone authorized to speak for them – but that was the sort of thing that only held up as long as they wanted it to.

When I went to bed, I was already making plans for seeking refuge in Denerim. Good faith efforts didn't have much chance of working if the major combatants had no faith at all.

 

The next thing I knew, my left arm was in screaming pain. My hand felt like it was being stabbed, set on fire, and frozen, all at once. I went to grab it with my right arm and discovered I was manacled, hands held two feet apart, and chained in every direction. I clanked worse than full plate armor just trying to move. What in Andraste's name had happened?

Moments later, two people were in the room, yelling at me. I couldn't quite focus on the words, the pain was so great, until one of them said the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been destroyed. And everyone there was dead except for me.

“What do you mean, all those people, dead?”

She didn't answer me. She just flipped my left hand open, exposing a sickly green slash across it. “Explain this.”

I started stammering at that point. The pain just kept coming, and people were dead, and they thought I'd killed them. Not that I hadn't killed before, but only defending my own life or the children. Not – not innocents. Not people seeking peace. Not this.

The two women argued, and I was dragged out. To be taken to a rift, whatever that was.

Then I saw the sky, and I wanted to be even more sick. That people wanted me dead, saw me as guilty – that was horrifying, but it was nothing compared to the hole in the sky. I could deal with people. But a hole? In the sky? “I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes.”

Everywhere was bodies, screaming, horror. I didn't see my children. Hopefully they were safe. Oh, Maker, let them be safe. Let them not know that it was me accused. I didn't trust them to not rush to my defense, and I wanted them safe.

We were halfway across a bridge when it collapsed, knocking us both to the ground. Cassandra charged off to face a demon that appeared, leaving me behind her. Where another demon was forming.

No fucking way. All the rage, the struggle in getting here and keeping my kids safe, and I was attacked by a fucking demon? Everything boiled over. I grabbed a pair of daggers I found and charged, shooting lightning from the dagger as I ran.

The fight was over quickly. Too quickly, given how much I still wanted to hit things, but it looked like I'd have plenty of chances. Until Cassandra turned on me to drop my daggers.

“Really?” I rolled my eyes, but sighed and went to put them down.

Apparently all she'd wanted was my willingness. Or something. She told me to keep them, handed over a couple of healing potions, and on we went. To find people fighting at this weird glowing thing that looked like the rip on my hand. Fighting more demons.

Well. I could fight demons. I could fight demons all day long. And it looked like I'd have my chance, too, given how many of them there were. I threw myself into the fight, daggers wreathed in my magic as I stabbed away. I even kicked a demon in – well, it might have been a head. The top bit, at any rate.

Then a bald elf grabbed my hand and held it up to the glowing thing, and I swear it felt like I was trying to sew that thing shut with a piece of my intestines. That was still attached. But – it worked.

Then, of all things, we had polite introductions. While demon goo steamed on the snow. And Solas, the bald elf, went on about how the mark couldn't possibly be my own magic.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at me. “You're a mage?”

“The lightning didn't give that away?”

“You're using daggers. You were wearing daggers, when we found you, even.”

“Half the world out there is hunting mages right now. First thing I did was ditch the staff. It's not like you ever asked.”

She glared, and made a disgusted noise, but didn't push further. She wanted us to get to the forward camp, through more demons. So many demons. It was like the Fade had just vomited itself out. I wondered absently as another demon exploded itself if there was anyone left in the Fade. I also wondered if there were any mystery beauty secrets to getting demon out of one's hair. It was sticky and felt gross. Maybe that's why the elf was bald.

I closed another rift, this one apparently at the forward camp Cassandra wanted to reach. Her friend was already here, arguing with – was that the functionary I'd seen in the temple? Really? Shit.

Of course he wanted my head removed, now if not sooner. Never mind that there were demons everywhere, that the world was splitting apart, that everything had gone insane. Pull back, lock away, hide under the bed and pretend the monsters aren't there. There was no specific code of behavior for this sort of thing, so run away and punt it to a proper authority. It was nice to see that everyone else agreed with my assessment of the man, though. Mutual disgust. It was a bonding moment.

Then they made me pick – a mountain path, which might be faster if it wasn't an ungodly mess, or pushing with the soldiers. “We know there's a rift down here, right? Where the soldiers are fighting? Let's get that one closed on the way. Then, even if it all goes to shit, your people should be more protected.”

“You expecting it to go to shit there?” Varric asked.

I just laughed. “What hasn't? It's been going to shit since I was twelve years old, my dwarven friend. I have absolutely no expectations that today is suddenly going to reverse that trend. Come on. Let's get this done.”

The bureaucrat, Roderick, muttered at us as we passed him. Poor meaningless man, with his super-important job made totally irrelevant. I ignored him as we moved deeper into the valley. If I survived this, then maybe I'd care what he thought.

Then again, probably not. Hell with him. More fucking demons, and the soldiers already there were overwhelmed. I threw myself into the fight again, screaming curses. No more. Just no more. I even shot lightning in front of one soldier's face, poor man. But another demon was coming up from behind, and he hadn't seen it. He couldn't get both. I could.

Then another rift, and another piece of my intestines sewn into it. At this rate, I wasn't going to have any guts left. Though it was probably just a metaphor.

Or hunger. When was the last time I'd eaten, anyway? I sagged to the ground for a moment, catching my breath.

Two big boots entered my field of view, and a hand came down to pull me up. I took it, and let the soldier I'd saved haul me to my feet.

He said something to Cassandra about closing the rift, and she deflected back to me. “You'll help, then?” he asked, sounding almost shocked.

“Actually, I'm just here to shoot lightning,” I said dryly. “The whole rift thing is just something to do on the way.”

He chuckled softly, tiredly, and I swear it sounded familiar. “The way forward's clear,” he said. “Can you keep going?”

Behind me, Varric laughed. “Are you kidding? Whirlwind here could probably clean up the entire valley herself.”

I turned, eyebrows raised. “Whirlwind, is it? No one's called me that in years. I don't suppose anyone's got something to eat on them, do they? I could use something before the last push.”

The man standing next to me looked almost pale. “Whirlwind?” he asked gently. “Elaine?”

I went completely stiff. Turned to look him square in the face. “Cullen?” I asked finally.

“Maker's Breath, Elaine, you're alive?” He pulled me into a hug, startling the hell out of me. Which didn't stop me from hugging him back. “You just disappeared! What happened?”

I raised an eyebrow. Held up my hand with the lightning sparking between my fingers. “Healed Alistair in front of an instructor right after I gave him a bloody nose. Was gone by morning. They wouldn't let me write, even to say what happened. What are you doing here?”

He laughed weakly. “Trying to keep everyone alive. You're going to the Breach, I take it.”

“Only thing to do.”

“I ...” he shook his head. “After all these years. Stay alive out there, Whirlwind. We need to catch up.”

“Oh hells.” I grabbed Cullen's arm, pulled him close so I could speak quietly. “Cullen, I have seven mage children with me in Haven. I don't know what happened to them, and this could well kill me. If our friendship ever meant anything to you, swear to me you'll find them and keep them safe if it all goes to hell. Please. The boy I knew wanted to protect innocents. Tell me the man you've become still does.”

“Seven? How did you – no. You'll tell me after. But I'll watch them, if you don't. You have my word.”

“They'll be looking for someone that says Whirlwind in flight.”

“You always did like that name.” He reached out with his free hand, cupped my face a moment. “Come back,” he said finally. “I have got to know how all this happened.”

“I'll do my best.” I let him go, watched him grab an injured soldier and help him back. Sighed. Of all the people to run into here. At this rate, next would be Andraste herself, playing a drum and singing about the joys of blasphemy.

“So. You and Curly have a history?” Varric asked at my elbow, holding out a piece of jerky.

I took the food, started eating. “We were in templar training together.”

Varric blinked. “Templar?”

Cassandra drifted closer as well. “But you're a mage!”

“Which is why I didn't become a templar. Shocking how that works, isn't it?” I finished off the snack, feeling better already. “All right. Let's finish this. If my day gets any weirder I think my head will explode.”

 

That fight – well. The rift needed to be opened and sealed properly, whatever the hell that meant. Clearly I needed to get a better idea of how all this worked, if I survived the experience. But the demon that came through …

Pride demon, it had said in the books, with a little picture of it, and a little description of how they tended to fight and behave. Little pictures and little descriptions were nothing compared to what we faced. It was huge, it reeked of rotted perfume, and it raked the ground with huge lightning attacks. I could weaken it, with the mark, but weakening wasn't enough.

So I ran up behind it, jumped up onto its back, and stabbed the hell out of it in the neck while it went after Cassandra. Sure, it wasn't a weak spot the way it was on a human, but it couldn't reach behind to attack me.

Finally, it fell. And with the energy I had left, I pulled that rift together. That one felt like it was using an entire intestine, and probably a lung. I was grateful to collapse when I finished.


	2. Waking up.  Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- rape mentions

Some time later I woke, feeling even worse than I had the time before. My hand didn't hurt any more than the rest of me, now, but that wasn't saying much. I felt like the time – no. I felt like I had the first time I'd practiced hand to hand combat. That was all I was going to think of.

On the other hand, I was clean and on a bed, and not chained or manacled. So someone had taken care of me. I was grateful to not be covered in demon goo anymore, even if it did feel petty. I tried to move and groaned softly.

“Ellie? ELLIE!”

And I was covered in hugging children. I didn't even bother trying to open my eyes now. I just gathered as many children in my arms as I could and hugged back, crying with gratitude. They were alive, and I was alive, and we were all going to be okay now. I'd find a way.

“She might want to breathe,” drawled a voice. “If you squish her, she won't be better for long.”

A sniff. “If that happens, I'll just heal her again,” Lori said snottily, and I started laughing weakly, tears coming faster now. Lori's sass only showed up when she felt confident in her safety. That she was already being a smartmouth at Cullen was the best sound ever. “Ellie? You're safe now, Ellie, it's okay. Don't cry.”

Gentle hands helped me sit up. “I think she's overwhelmed,” Cullen said softly. “Elaine, can you eat something?”

My stomach gurgled in response, and he chuckled. One of the other kids brought over a bowl of broth, liberally seasoned with elfroot. Not the tastiest thing ever, but it definitely made me feel stronger once I'd drunk it. “What happened?” I asked after the bowl was empty.

“The Breach is stable. So's your hand. There are still rifts, and we still need your help. But the immediate danger is past, now.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. A weight released. “It worked.”

He paused. “Solas thinks it's a temporary solution. But something that should hold for months, now, at least. So we have time to find a permanent one.”

“Worked enough, then.” I cuddled Toby where he huddled against my side, frowned. “Toby, are you trying to set me on fire?”

“Sorry!” I could feel his heat ratchet back to more normal levels. “I wasn't paying attention,” he said weakly.

“No, you weren't. But no harm done.” I looked up at Cullen. “So what happens now?”

“Cassandra and Leliana want to meet with you at the Chantry. If you're up to it. And – well. People know what happened out there.”

“Is that a 'people want to kill me' know what happened, or a 'people have stopped wanting to kill me' know what happened?”

His lips quirked, and I noticed a scar he'd gotten. How had he ever gotten a scar on his lip like that? Fork accident? “People don't want to kill you, at least,” he said, laughter in his voice. I glared, which only made him grin. “You'll understand when you see it.”

“Kids, I changed my mind. Smuggle me out of here.”

“Commander said you have to stay,” Lori said, checking my pulse. “And he's bigger than you are.”

I blinked. Eyed Cullen. “Commander?” I looked him over, frowned. “Kids, can I talk to my friend alone for a bit?”

“Toby, can you go to the Chantry and tell Lady Cassandra we'll be along in a few minutes? And I believe Adan wanted the rest of you to do some herb hunting for him, am I right?”

Toby nodded, ran off, as the others gathered up their things. I was rather impressed with how quickly he'd gotten them to move. And nervous, though I couldn't say why. Possibly the lack of templar insignia on Cullen. I'd not noticed before, but we'd been in battle. I'd been too damn shocked that he was there at all.

When everyone else had run off, he grabbed the chair and settled in it. “I was in Kirkwall,” he said finally.

“Oh shit, Cullen. I've read The Tale of the Champion, but I hadn't put it together. That was you.”

His lips quirked in that damn smile again. That hadn't changed since I'd last seen him, other than the scar. “So you know the story.”

“Story, yes. I assume there's artistic license, but the basics – yes, I read.” I paused, frowned. “Wait. Does that mean the dwarf with the crossbow is the author of it?”

He chuckled. “Yes, same Varric Tethras. Cassandra dragged him along to – well. Tell his story to the Divine.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I left the Order,” he said flatly.

“You what? But – really?”

He just shook his head. “It's a mess. I can't be bound to that anymore. I can't follow those instructions. That's part of why I'm here.” He met my eyes warily. “You trusted me with your children. I'm not sure I would have done the same. Not after what I've done. I want you to know that I meant my promise. No matter what happens, I'll protect them.”

I stared at him. “What happened to you?” I whispered finally. “Joining the Order was your life.”

“Too much to tell in one sitting. Some of it – some of it I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to talk about.” He sighed heavily. “Enough for now to know that I am trying to atone.”

I stared at him a moment, then leaned over and placed my hand over his. “I believe you, and believe in you,” I said softly. “We were friends once. I'd like to be friends again.”

He sat frozen as a statue after I'd reached out, and I pulled back, fearing I'd overstepped. But I'd barely moved before he turned his hand over, took mine. “You may change your mind,” he said with a soft smile, holding my hand between both of his. “It's been a long time.”

My stupid heart fluttered slightly, and I cursed it in my head. I'd been twelve when I'd seen him last. That he'd been my first real crush did not mean I needed to act like an idiot now. “We'll see,” I said finally. “But something tells me that if you'd really changed to someone I wouldn't want to know, you wouldn't see yourself as someone needing to atone in the first place.”

He blushed and stared at the floor. “Well. Um.” He then looked up and around at noise outside. “Come on, people will want to see you.”

“See me? Why?”

“You've got boots around here somewhere, don't you?” He dropped my hand, looked around. Fished out a pair I'd never seen before from under the bed. “Here you go.”

“Those aren't mine.”

“They are now. They go with the coat.”

I blinked. “Coat.”

He grinned now, and I knew I was in trouble. “Come on! Don't you trust me?”

“Hells.” But I pulled on the boots, took the coat he gave me. Stared at it. “I look all fancy. Why do I look fancy?”

“The people expect it.” He offered me his arm. “Allow me to escort you, my lady.”

I eyed him sideways. “Is this so I can't run away?” But I took his arm. If nothing else I was feeling wobbly still.

And then he opened the door, to everyone standing there, and my hand clenched down on the inside of his elbow. He pushed me slightly in front of him, so I couldn't help but notice that people were looking at me. Like I was something – special. I promised myself I'd step on his foot once we got out of sight, and let him walk me through Haven to the Chantry.

We reached the Chantry itself, the door closing behind us, and I turned on him. “You could have warned me!”

“I said they wanted to see you!”

I growled at him, and his eyes widened. Then we both heard Roderick's voice from behind the door in the back, demanding yet again that I be taken away for trial and execution. Which, lovely trial there. “I'll deal with you later,” I said finally.

“He's not taking you anywhere,” Cullen responded. “On that, we agreed.”

“We?”

“Come on.”

And that's how I discovered what was going on. Rebuilding the Inquisition, with Cullen and the two Hands of the late Divine. So, apparently, my day could get more strange. Well, week, it couldn't possibly be the same day. On the other hand, only Chancellor Roderick wanted me dead, and he was clearly outvoted and outweaponed.

Still. Join an organization who's name was covered with blood and terror?

Wasn't the world already covered in blood and terror, though? If the goal was to lessen that, what else could I do? I agreed.

We had a cute little ceremony, where we basically had the writ nailed up and banners unrolled. It had caused a bit of reshuffling, given that the original intent had involved the Divine in the middle. Instead, Josephine, our ambassador, spoke. Why we had an ambassador was beyond me, but someone else in charge of public speaking was definitely in my favor. I just stood there and looked stern.

Then we marched back to the Chantry and had a meeting to get me up to speed. I mean, get “The Herald of Andraste” up to speed.

“That's quite a title,” Cullen said, smirking, the bastard. “How do you feel about it?”

I glared. “Like the entire world's gone mad. Which it has. How am I the Herald of Andraste?”

Because a shining woman had pushed me out of the Fade. Which meant I'd been in the Fade. I found a wall to lean against before my knees gave out.

“Okay. Chantry hates me,” I said finally. “I am a symbol of insanity and I refuse to let them chop my head off, so I'm the bad guy.” I blew out a huge breath. “At least my phylactery's destroyed.”

Cullen blinked. “How did you manage that?”

“Torched the room in the Ostwick Circle before I left. I'm not an idiot.”

Four sets of eyes narrowed in on me. “Three templars died in that fire, Elaine,” Cullen said sternly.

I picked my head up to stare at him. “Yes, they did. And no one asked what they were doing there, in a room next to the phylacteries, with a pair of Tranquil women that were too pretty for their own good, did they? Trust me. The world is better off without them.”

Cullen stared back, and I saw him swallow hard. “Oh.” A pause. “Did you know they would be there?”

“I knew what the room was used for.” I kept staring until Cullen's eyes dropped. “Besides, I had to destroy the phylacteries. There were eight of us, and finding one would find all. I am sorry about the Tranquil.”

He fidgeted with some papers. “I, ah,” he started.

“No. Move on. It's enough to know that I cannot be traced that way.”

He nodded, swallowing hard again. “All right. Ah. Leliana?”

She began discussing needs in the Hinterlands, and we agreed to move out the day after next. Though apparently “we” was myself, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. “Tomorrow I'll take care of the rifts still around Haven.”

Cullen's eyes met mine again. “There still are some?”

I frowned, felt the Veil. It was far more clear now than it used to be, and I could hear where it felt different. Torn. “Two near here, I think. I'm not sure, which is part of why I want to check this out here. Then we can go meet this Mother Giselle.”

“Lady Trevelyan, can we contact your parents for assistance and recognition?”

I leaned my head back against the wall. “Maker, don't call me Lady Trevelyan. I'll start looking for my mother. You can ask them. They're religious enough that I've got cousins in just about every Chantry, and they sent me to Ferelden to be a templar because there were too many of us closer. Ironic that I ended up being sent back to the Ostwick circle after that. If they believe I've been touched by Andraste, they'll probably be very generous. If they decide the Chantry is right and we're horrid heretics, they'll probably denounce us. They can't disown me any more than they already have, so I don't need to worry about that.” I snorted. “It would be weird to actually be on their good list for once. Go ahead and try it, if you want.”

“There will probably be questions about the children you brought with you,” Leliana said after a moment.

“They're from Ostwick. Anyone threatens them, I'll rip their guts out with my bare hands. We left because there was talk of making Toby Tranquil.”

Cullen smacked the table. “He's a child! What is he, nine?”

“Ten. He's small. We've been on the run for two years, and most of that was on our own. In any event, I took the children most likely to be made Tranquil. You see, they didn't have enough for the amount of crafting they needed done. So they wanted more.” I sighed. “Well, and Lori was too pretty. I didn't dare leave her behind.”

More being stared at in horror. “What? You know it happened. You all do. Why do you think we're fighting? The templars held too much power, with absolutely no redress. Far too many were corrupt, and those that weren't were kept from being able to do anything, because the power structure itself rewarded the corrupt. As templars we were trained to be afraid of mages, to see them as likely to lose control over their power or their mind at any moment. As mages, we learn to not trust templars, because any one of them could hide an evil nature behind a pleasant smile, and many did. Most decent templars wouldn't even talk to us, which means the ones that did were inherently suspect. Anyone that breaks any of the arbitrary rules is punished, and some of the rules are deliberately arbitrary to trip you up. There's too much money in having Tranquil around, because they do enchantments. Useful and totally unthreatening, and you can do whatever you want with them. I don't think the Circles could have survived as they were without the Tranquil, because they brought in too much money. So yes. I blew up the phylactery room and smuggled out the children most at risk, and left notes for other mages that I felt needed them. As I understand it, lots of people left that night.” I looked around the room. “One thing should be clear. I have no interest at all in recreating the Circles as they were. We start heading in that direction, I'm out, and I'm using whatever influence you've given me to fight that.”

“Noted,” Cassandra said dryly.

I sighed, leaned my head back against the wall. “I haven't been in civilized company in two years,” I said to the ceiling. “We spent six months with a merc company, but you couldn't call them civilized. They'd be insulted at the thought. My manners are shit at the best of times, and I'm exhausted and overwhelmed. I'm absolutely in agreement about closing rifts and figuring out a way to seal the Breach for good. That shit's scary, and it can't be ignored. I'm willing to meet with Mother Giselle and try to find a way for our baby Inquisition to make friends or at least piss off fewer people. A little creeped out by the Herald thing, but I can live with it. What else do I need to know?” I frowned. “How's Haven after all this? Food, shelter, medicines? Some idea of what we need would be good, so I can keep an eye out while we're wandering around. Work parties – Cullen, I assume you've got soldiers doing that?”

He nodded. “We're still getting everything organized, but that's ongoing. There are also civilian work parties being organized, and some for the children at their level.”

“Good. Children want to be included, and they want a sense of control as well. Herb hunting is good for them, and fishing. Does the lake have fish? Toby can easily melt a hole in the ice for that.” I scratched at my hand, where that weird mark itched. It didn't hurt, but I could swear I felt it moving through my skin. “I should probably see Solas about this thing, see if he knows anything else that's useful about it. I know I saw tents. Do we have enough space?”

“It's tight,” Leliana said. “We'll probably need more tents as we grow. The cabin you woke up in is yours, though.”

I frowned. “There was only one bed. Where are the kids?”

A pause. I lifted up my head to see Cullen looking smug and Leliana glaring and dropping a coin in his hand. “You bet on whether or not I'd expect the kids to stay with me?”

“You don't need to share,” Josephine said. “You're our Herald. You deserve to be seen as such.”

“Those children are my family. The only family I admit to, in any event. If there's a place where all children are staying, and they want to stay there, I'm not going to insist. But if they're otherwise in the tents or shoved into a corner or something, they might as well be shoved into corners in my place, because that's where they'll end up anyway.”

Josephine shook her head, looked at her list. “All right. Tomorrow, you'll regain some strength, deal with any local rifts, prepare for travel. Then you will go see Mother Giselle and see what she needs.”

“If possible, find Master Dennet and ask him about horses,” Cullen put in.

“Dennet. Horses. I assume there are maps?”

“I'll make sure you have them,” Cassandra said. “Are you all right?”

I laughed weakly. “No. I just became officially the most hated person by the Chantry. There's a hole in the sky, and more all around, and I'm the only one that can actually do a thing about them. Other people can get me there, but I'm the only one that can actually stop a horde of demons from invading. Before this, you wanted me dead, and before that, I was on the run for the past two years trying to keep seven children alive. I don't even remember if I ate at the Conclave, which is petty but pissing me off, because I was so looking forward to decent food and maybe even something sweet.” I scrubbed at my face with my hands. “And I'm standing here thinking that I'm lucky, because there's no demon goo in my hair, and my children are finally safe, and the only person people are actively trying to kill is me. How messed up is it, when I'm happy that people only want to kill me and not those kids?” I tried to fight tears, but I was too exhausted. “My kids are safe. For the first time since I was twelve, I don't have to worry that someone's going to try and make someone I know Tranquil. I don't have to worry that they're going to starve, that I'm going to fail them, that something stupid will happen and I'll break a leg or something and we'll all be doomed. I've been the only person I can rely on for so long. And now there's more I need to do, and more people relying on me, and all I can think is that my children are safe.” I started crying more, and turned my face away, not wanting to be seen falling apart.

Then I was being held against a strong shoulder, arms around me. “It's okay,” Cullen whispered, holding me. “You're okay. You're not alone.”

I let myself fall apart, safe for the first time in so many years. I heard people moving around us, probably leaving the room, but I didn't care. I just cared that someone was holding me. Someone cared, someone was keeping me safe. It had been so long since someone else had cared. Had found it safe to care. Someone that didn't rely on me to be the strong one, that could let me be weak. Be human.

Some time later I ran out of tears. “Better?” Cullen asked softly.

I nodded, but I didn't move. Not yet.

“Since you were twelve?”

I sighed. “No one wanted me at the Circle. To the other apprentices, I was a templar. To the templars, I was a traitor. If I hadn't been from a noble family, I would have been made Tranquil, no question. But I was in Ostwick, which meant my family was right there. So there needed to be something they could point to, something they could use to prove that I couldn't control myself. And oh, they tried. I'm fairly sure they let slip about Toby being made Tranquil on purpose, in the hopes that I'd do something rash.”

Cullen chuckled softly, rubbing my back. “That went well for them.”

“They were prepared for magic. They weren't prepared for the fact that I can pick locks or that I was willing to climb down the outside of the building on a bedsheet rope. That and some knowledge of alchemy, and the wall collapsed. Then it just took throwing in a burning bottle of alcohol.”

“When did you learn how to pick locks?”

“I taught myself. It was a puzzle I could play with. And let's face it, most doors inside a circle tower are pretty basic. After all, mages can't pick locks, right?”

“Something tells me that assuming you can't do something specifically because of your being a mage is a bad idea. Did you know, Varric is telling people you kicked a demon in the head?”

“I did. At least, whatever you call the bit on top. I'm not sure it's really a head.”

“You also almost fried my eyebrows with lightning.”

“Well, would you rather I'd let that demon eat you?”

He pretended to think about it. “I guess not. Still scared the hell out of me. You're not supposed to be able to direct magic with a dagger.”

“Yeah, I've been told that. If it helps, I do it too much and they melt. It's not entirely false.”

“You're sure you're okay with leaving your children here while you go to meet Mother Giselle?”

I smiled up at him. “Like I said. I trust you.” Then I grinned. “Besides, if anything does go wrong, Toby can fry your eyebrows off.”

“That's the worst definition of trust ever,” he grumbled, but I could see he didn't mean it. “Come on, let's get you fed.”


	3. Organizing the Chaos

We wandered out, found space around a cookfire where Varric and Leliana were already eating. I'd gotten maybe half the bowl of stew into me before I was surrounded by children, each of them wanting to tell me something. I had no idea what half of what they told me was about, but I listened to all of them. What mattered to me was that they sounded happy. They felt safe. That was everything.

"Hey Whirlwind, are we taking them with us when we leave?” Varric asked suddenly, and the kids all went silent, staring at him. I glared.

“Ellie?” Toby asked, sitting on my lap, arms suddenly winding around me in a tight grip. “Are you going away?”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I've got some things I need to do, something only I can do,” I said. “Because of this mark on my hand. So I'm going to be going, but then I'm going to come back.”

“We'll be sending birds back and forth,” Leliana added. “So you can send them a message. And they can send a letter. One letter, between all of you. The birds can only carry so much.”

“You'll come back?” Toby demanded. “For real? Please, Ellie?”

I propped my chin on his head and held him as close as was possible. “As long as I live, I'll come back for you, Toby. You're not being abandoned. The others will be here, and Ser Cullen, too.” I met Cullen's eyes over Toby's head, and he nodded. “So I want you to listen to him. Or Sister Leliana. Okay? They're in charge around here.”

Toby looked over at them. Turned his head back firmly to me. “I'm coming with you.”

“No. You're not. None of you are. I'm heading someplace even more dangerous, and I can't do what I need to if I don't know you're safe here.”

Toby pulled back slowly, met my eyes. “You scared me,” he said finally. “We thought you were dead, and then you slept so long. And now you're going away. What happens if you don't come back? What happens to us?”

“Then I take care of you,” Cullen rumbled. “You're members of the Inquisition too. But that comes with duties.”

“Our little family just got bigger,” I said with a faint smile. “Now we're all part of this one. But you're still my kids.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “This is sappy enough I'm going to be sick.”

Lori was in front of him in a second, a tiny whirlwind of elven anger. “You're going to be sick? We were terrified we'd lost the only adult to ever take a risk to care for us, the only one to fight for us, and now we find out we have to share her with you? You go be sick. I won't heal you.” She then spun and turned her back on him, arms crossed and full of righteous fury in the way only a teenager could ever manage.

I frowned. “How long was I out? You don't sound like we're talking a day here.”

Leliana blinked. “It's been a week since the Temple exploded. Three days since the Breach was sealed.”

I just stared, stunned. “A week? That means you kids thought I was dead for three days?”

Toby nodded against my neck, and I started rocking him. Probably more for my comfort than his. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”

Lori sat next to me, leaned her head against my arm. “You came back. That's what matters.”

“And I will again. You kids just have to help keep Haven running while I'm gone. Everyone has jobs to do. And I'm trusting you to be good and listen and do what you're told.”

“But not too good!” Toby chirped against her neck, humor starting to come back. “No choirboys here!”

Oh shit. I glanced up at Cullen, to see him biting his lip and looking like he was fighting laughter with all he had. I buried my face in Toby's hair and pretended I hadn't seen it.

“You should let Elaine rest,” Cullen said after a few minutes, laughter still stifled in his voice. “She looks tired.”

In minutes, Toby was dragging me back to the cabin, chattering away about how they were all going to stay with me now and how great it was. I let him drag me away, mother-hen me into bed. He even insisted on tucking me in, which made me smile helplessly. “Ellie?” he asked finally.

“What is it?”

“Why does Ser Cullen call you Elaine like he knows you?”

“Well, way back when I was,” I squinted at him dubiously, “your age? No. I was never your age, was I?”

He giggled. “You were you were!”

“Well then, back when I was your age, you know how I was training to be a templar? Cullen was one of my friends back then, and I used my full name.”

He looked nervous. “Commander Cullen's a templar?”

“Former. He refuses to have anything to do with the abuses. He's a good man, Toby, and I trust him. I would never risk you. Any of you.”

He sighed, then laid down on the bed on top of the covers next to me. “I'm scared, Ellie.”

“I know, Toby. I'm scared too.”

He wriggled up against me and cuddled, a small weight against the blankets. “He should keep you safe,” Toby said finally. “Not stay here.”

“No, he has to stay here to keep you safe,” I corrected. “The scary lady with the big sword is coming with me to keep me safe.”

“Really? You're going with Lady Cassandra?”

“Impressed you, has she?”

“I saw her training,” he said softly. “She's scary.”

“Good. She can beat up any bad guys I miss.”

Toby giggled. “Okay. Good night, Ellie.”

“Good night, Toby.”

**  
I woke the next morning feeling better. And pinned. Toby had somehow gotten cross my legs, holding me down. In the rest of the cabin were bedrolls tucked any which way, making it difficult to get to the door. But I wriggled my way free with a smile, seeing seven little heads in seven bedrolls. Safe. Stifling, but safe.

And when I worked my way to the outside, the sun was just rising, dazzling against the snow. I tilted my head back and just breathed the fresh air, happy in a way I couldn't even describe to myself.

It didn't make any sense. I had more responsibilities now, more people depending on me, more to do. But the sheer fact that I wouldn't be doing it alone, that I could rely on other people, made the weight so much less. I had more faith now than I'd had in years. Or maybe my faith was unchanged, only rewarded. I shrugged. It didn't matter.

What did matter was the set of combat dummies I saw, just sitting there, all by themselves. My breath sped up, and my hands fell to the daggers I'd found next to my coat.

I mean, they were here to be used, right? And oh, I could use a good workout, a fight that didn't involve death or demon goo. I rolled my shoulders, looked around. Didn't see anyone that looked like they'd mind.

My daggers pulled free from their sheathes with a soft shink noise, and I picked a dummy that looked particularly worn down. Maker knew there wasn't going to be much standing when I was done with it. I stood, facing it, letting the magic race in my blood for a moment.

And attacked.

My basic style was that of templar hand to hand combat, but I'd adapted it quite a bit since then. Some of it took advantage of my magic, making me faster, lighter. Some of it was just what I'd developed in bad situations, over the years. I whirled, kicked, struck, over and over, working every attack.

I was aware of people moving around me, but no one grew close, so I didn't pay attention. It felt good to move, to really settle in my body and fight without consequence. Worst that could happen to me today was a lecture from a healer. A grin stretched across my face without volition as I struck, again and again, ending with a full roundhouse kick to the head.

Which ripped the poor dummy's head clean off and sent it sailing. Into a crowd of people. That had been watching.

I blushed a deep red at their shocked faces. Slid my daggers away, looking around for an escape.

Someone started clapping, pushing through the crowd. “Now that's a fighter!” the man bellowed, voice carrying with a rich Starkhaven accent. “Lassie, I'd have you at my back any day. And this is what we talk about, when we say daily training,” he said, turning back to the soldiers around me. “It's not even breakfast, and our Herald is out here practicing. Not because someone said so, or because she was threatened with ditchdigging, or anything else! But because she knows that if you want to get good and stay good, you train every day! If she can do that, who are you to do less?”

“Merely human?” someone muttered in the crowd.

“Who said that?” yelled the Starkhaven man.

The crowd did that weird shuffling thing that happens when everyone wants to move away from the idiot being brought to attention. And there stood a weedy man, in Inquisition armor, looking disgusted.

“You think she's not human, lad?” bellowed the man. “What is she, then? Qunari? Dwarf? Elf? Sure looks human to me. More to the point, she knows being the Herald won't save her out in the field. What saves her is cold hard steel and a well-honed body. Same thing that will save or doom every single one of you out there.” He pointed at me again. “Look at her. She just did a full workout, and I bet she could take on any one of you in hand to hand, if she felt like it. She's just warmed up. And that's where you have to be, if you want to survive!”

“But ...” weedy man began.

“No buts!”

I looked over the crowd. Most of them looked at least physically capable, if not honed, but some of them – I sincerely hoped they weren't all soldiers. I didn't want to undermine the command staff, but …

“If you go out in the field, it's not just you,” I found myself saying. “It's the people on either side, relying on you, and you relying on them. Even if you hate each other's guts, you have to be able to rely on the person next to you to do their job just as you're doing yours, or you've already lost. I'm relying on all of you to do your jobs, to defend those that need defending. If you can't do that, there are other jobs you can do for the Inquisition. But I need to be able to rely on you.” I looked at them, eyes slowly going across the crowd. “I assume most of you are here because of faith. Faith in Andraste, in the Maker, or just faith that someone trying to fix things is better than someone getting off on killing everything in sight. Faith is a good place to start. But it doesn't do a damn thing to make up for the work that comes after faith. Faith put you on the path. It's up to you to walk it.

“I believe we can do this together, as the Inquisition. But that means everyone together. If you've got a problem with that, now's the time to change your mind. If you don't want to practice fighting until you can do it in your sleep, now's the time to find a new job.

“Now, unless someone wants to take me up on that hand to hand challenge, I'm going to go eat, and then I'm going to go hunt some demons. That's my job. I expect all of you to do yours.” I nodded politely to the Starkhaven man, to the crowd, and turned to walk back into Haven.

Cassandra fell into step next to me, appearing out of the crowd. “You're eloquent.”

I snorted. “I hate being spoken for. That man wasn't wrong, but. Being spoken for never fails to irritate me.”

“Still. You were right to speak, and you backed up the command instead of confusing it. I could never speak so well.”

“Honestly, I was a little embarrassed. I mean, I decapitated a training dummy and kicked it into the crowd.”

“I saw that. I'd like to take you up on that hand to hand challenge sometime, if you're willing. You could probably teach me something.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Is that so odd?”

“You're a Hand of the Divine, and I'm a dagger-fighting mage. I'm so messed up I'm not even supposed to exist. I think part of me is still waiting for you to run screaming or try to kill me again.”

She just stared at me. “I do _not_ run screaming,” she said, dignity coating every word.

My lips twitched. “My apologies, Lady Cassandra,” I said formally. “I stand corrected.”

“Ugh.”

I couldn't stop a giggle. The look she gave me made it worse. “You look like you want to throw me off the mountain,” I said between giggles. “Are you always going to glare at me that way?”

“If I'm so frightening, then why are you laughing?”

“Because you're on my side.”

She was silent for a moment, and then a small smile crossed her face. “That gives you comfort?”

“That you can skewer just about anything with a look before you even get to your sword? Believe it. Are you willing to go with me, find those rifts?”

“If you think I'm letting you go alone you've lost your mind.”

“I was thinking Varric and Solas as well, fair warning. Give us a chance to work together when it's not sudden doom. See if there's anything we need to change before we leave tomorrow.” I dropped my hand to my daggers, frowned. Looked at the smithy. “Maybe see if I can get better daggers before we go?”

“Absolutely worth doing. He'll be there after breakfast, I'm sure.”

I smiled slowly. “Breakfast. That's definitely worth getting.”

Breakfast was thin, though, something I noticed with a frown. “Food stocks are bad, aren't they?” I asked finally.

“There's plenty for you,” Cassandra said firmly, but I shook my head.

“I've lived off the land. I know that when an army camp is living off reheated fish stew for breakfast, there's a problem.” I looked at the hills, frowned. “Do we have hunters? Trappers? Snarelines? Even fennic can fill out a stew, if you catch enough.”

Cassandra blinked a few times. “I … don't know.”

“Who would?”

“Josephine?”

I fixed Cassandra with a stare. “You don't know who's responsible for making sure everyone has food.”

“My job is your security.”

“Since when?”

“It was decided while you slept. After the Breach was closed. Cullen is in charge of troops. Leliana information. Josephine – I guess she takes care of these things. Or the quartermaster?”

“I'll see the quartermaster then. What time should we plan to head up to the rift?”

Cassandra eyed the sun. “I would say, not until after lunch. Varric does love his sleep.”

“Then I'll plan to join you and the others after lunch. In the meantime, I'll check on things.” I smiled, finished my food, and went to find the quartermaster.

She was cranky. I didn't blame her. She was in charge of making sure there was food, but she had no authority and no resources, so being in charge didn't mean a thing. I had a page of notes before I left and went to see the healer. Speaking to him filled up the backside of the page. A hundred little things, all slipping through the cracks. I didn't like the picture I was getting.

I was thinking of seeing Leliana, asking her about it, when I came across her praying and crying.

Shit. Of course things were a mess. People were grieving! I tried to withdraw, give her privacy, but I must have made a noise.

“You speak for the Maker, no? What's his game?”

My stomach twisted. “You think this is a game?” And I watched, horrified, as she ranted about how the Maker should have rescued Justinia, how cruel the Maker was, how this all had to be His fault. That if anyone should have lived, it should have been Justinia.

“Do you think she would have wanted to survive this?” I asked softly. “All her hopes, all her influence, aimed at this, and destroyed? I can tell you, had my children been up there, I would not have wanted to survive. Think of all she lost in that explosion. You would ask her to shoulder that, too?”

Leliana just stared at me, horror on her face. “You're saying death is His only blessing,” she said finally.

“No. I'm saying sometimes it's the right blessing.” I turned, looked at the Temple crater. “What happened was horrible. It should never have been. That I survived when so many better people didn't is a travesty. The idea that of everyone in that building, I was the only one worth saving is impossible. But somehow, I'm the only one that actually survived. I'm the one with the mark on my hand.”

“You don't think you were chosen?”

I laughed bitterly. “If you're trying to tell me the best person in that entire building was someone that had to whore and steal her way across Thedas to stay alive and feed those kids, we're already not worth saving. I've spent the past two years doing what I had to. For all I know, I did what I had to in there, too. What I do know is that this is a mess. That if we don't do something, this war will destroy us all, and the demons will feast on our remains. I can't speak for the Maker. But if you're looking for purpose, I see that everywhere. We're alive. Our purpose is here. Think on this. Your life was spared too.”

Leliana blinked. “I wasn't even there.”

“And so you live. Miracle takes many forms.”

She stared at me, almost shaking. “I need to think,” she said finally. “If you'll excuse me.”

I nodded and went to see Josephine.


	4. Organization Issues

After that, I went to see Josephine.

Speaking to Josephine made me more nervous. She knew how to delegate, how to get the most out of a noble's household – but there needed to be the resources already there for that. When it came to hunting, fishing, gathering, she didn't have the background. She'd thought Threnn, the quartermaster, was taking care of it. Threnn didn't. I sighed, made up lists of what we needed and sign-up sheets for people to take on those responsibilities. Hunting, fishing, mining the iron that studded the hills, cutting wood and bringing it to Haven. Herb gathering. We needed a point person for each task, someone that kept track of who was actually trying to contribute and what we did and didn't have. I went back to Threnn, worked with her for a bit. Got the signup lists available, so Haven could start becoming at least a little more self-sufficient. Went to speak with Cullen about making sure that his troops put in a shift as well. Most of the people here had joined to fight, and we couldn't feed them if they didn't help there, too.

“I don't want to overstep,” I said after I laid out what I'd discussed with Threnn, suddenly realizing I'd told him what his troops needed to do. “You'd said there were work parties, and I just walked over that. If there's a problem ...”

He smiled, waved that off. “Truthfully, you've saved me a huge amount of time. I was planning on trying to work on this later today, figure something out. An army marches on its stomach and all that. Every option I was coming up with ended up stepping on someone's toes. You found a solution that doesn't.” He glanced away as someone yelled, winced as a recruit went flying. “Might want to have some of the less capable soldiers put on food duty full time, too. Which reminds me, I hear you impressed Rylen this morning.”

“The man with the Starkhaven accent? I hadn't even realized anyone was watching until I finished my workout. It was a little embarrassing.”

“He wants to mount the training dummy head like a trophy and hang it in your cabin. I'm not sure if he wants to worship you or hit on you.” He paused. “Or both, really.”

“Worship me. Because I kicked the head off a training dummy. I don't think that's worship, Cullen.”

“You didn't see the look in his eyes when he told me about it. It was disturbing.”

“Well I'm disturbed now, so thanks for that. Remind me to repay the favor sometime. Like with frogs or something.” Then I started grinning. “Or we could disturb him right back.”

“Why am I suddenly frightened?”

“Just thinking we could go hand to hand. Show those greenies how it's really done.” I smirked slowly. “Give your friend reason to fear. Especially once I beat you.”

“You think I'd let you beat me? Friendship doesn't go that far, Elaine.”

“Who said anything about let?”

I could see him sizing me up, thinking it through. Contemplating it. “Barehanded? Or weapons?”

“I don't have practice weapons, unless you've got daggers, and I haven't sparred with people enough to trust being able to pull a blow. And it's bad form to stab the commander, you know.”

He smirked. “Bad form to stab the Herald, too, I'm sure. Pummeling her face in, on the other hand ...”

“No armor, no weapons, no offensive magic. I don't want to break my fist on your clamshell.” I was already up slightly on my toes, ready to roll, move. Grinning. He was too.

“Friendly? Or is there a wager on this?”

“My dear Commander, what could I possibly offer as a wager?”

“Future forfeit?”

“Deal.”

We set up, ditching armor, and Cullen quickly told one of his men what was going on. Which quickly meant people were surrounding us, betting, watching. Then we started circling each other, both grinning just this side of feral. I could hear the people's voices, but they disappeared into the background. Then he moved.

He had mass, easily, and reach. But I had speed and flexibility, and I'd been fighting for survival while he'd been dealing with a desk. That left us close to equal.

But close wasn't the same as actually equal, and I could see the narrowing in Cullen's eyes when he realized that if he didn't close, I was going to win. He charged, and I laughed breathlessly as I danced out of reach. “Best you have then?”

“Hardly.” We were circling again, grinning at each other. “You wanted to spar, so what are you doing all the way over there? Afraid?”

“Ooh, my heart. However will I survive. You could come over here. I promise I won't break your face up too much. More.”

I saw the glint in his eye just before he moved, was moving myself. He grabbed me, but I used the grip to pivot him, get my hip under his and push. Then I had him flipped, on his back staring at the sky, and my knee on his chest. “Yield?” I asked sweetly.

“Like hell!” He twisted to the side, and I rolled the other way and back up to my feet. He charged almost instantly that time, and managed to knock me over. Leaned over me, smirking. “Do you yield?”

“Why would I?” I asked, and without getting up, grabbed his legs with mine and twisted. Rolled with him, and came up with my knee on his chest again, arms pinning his shoulders. “That's two. Yield.”

He stared at me a long moment, eyes narrowed, as I held him pinned. I could feel him trying to get leverage and failing. “You win,” he said finally. “I yield.”

I grinned at him and rolled to my feet, offered him a hand up. He pulled me close when I had him on his feet, murmured, “I'm telling everyone I let you win, though.”

I smirked up at him. “You do, and I'll just have to beat you again.”

“Brat.”

“Winning brat, so watch it.” Punched him affectionately in the shoulder. “You're welcome to try again. Anytime.”

There was that glint in his eyes again. “You better believe it.”

“In the meantime, I'm starving.” I walked over, grabbed my jacket. Eyed the people around us and grinned at them, at their shocked expressions. I even saw the man I'd spoken to earlier, the one Cullen said was called Rylen. He looked like he'd just been hit over the head.

Good.

Lunch was extremely thin. I resolved on the way back from demon hunting we'd get some of those rams I'd seen on the hills. We could use the meat, the leather, and the wool.

Varric appeared beside me as I was eating. “So. That was quite a fight between you and Curly.”

I glanced at him. “It was. Fun, too.”

“Is that what you're calling it?”

“Okay, you're clearly not saying something really loudly. Just spit it out.”

“That looked either like you were flirting with Curly or trying to scare the hell out of every other man here. Or both. You definitely intimidated.”

I blinked, stared at Varric. “Okay, I'll admit the intimidation. But how did it look like flirting?”

“You two, rolling around on the dirt like that? Sure as hell didn't look like any sparring I've seen.”

“Please, I threw him once when I was prone. That's hardly rolling on the dirt. Also, did you see the shock on his face when I did that? Priceless.”

“So then why the intimidation?”

I stared into the fire. “I've had enough people chase me looking for a trophy fuck,” I said finally. “I don't want that to happen here. I'd far rather scare the hell out of everyone and have them way too afraid to come near me than deal with the bullshit of people wanting to brag they bedded the Herald of Andraste.”

“And if they're interested in Whirlwind?”

“Then they'd better not piss themselves at the thought that I can handle myself in a fight, or I wouldn't want them anyway.”

“Fair enough. Cassandra said we were going to be fighting demons this afternoon?”

“There are a couple of rifts nearby, I figure we want them closed anyway. Might as well get that done before we go, see if there's any last-minute changes we need to do. I'm going to quick hit the blacksmith, see if I can get some better daggers. These aren't balanced the way I like them. They'll do, but long term, I'd rather something a little different.” I finished my bowl, left in the bin to be washed with the others. “Oh, and I'll probably hunt some rams on the way back. Could use company, if you're willing. Get some food for Haven while work lists are being sorted, bring back the hides and wool while we're at it. Meet you at the blacksmith.”

Blacksmith Harritt wasn't sure about mages, but he knew his stuff when it came to weapons. We discussed his needs, while I was there, more notes on my pages of lists. He also agreed cheerfully to the thought of taking care of tanning any skins that came his way, saying they had a setup downwind and plenty of things they could use leather for. By the time I left I had even more requests for materials, but also, two daggers that were exactly the way I liked them, including long hilts that could be used to focus magic without instantly melting the blades.

There were reasons mages didn't normally use other weapons, of course. Sending mana through most materials wore them down over time. A staff was a large enough piece of wood to handle the load, discharging when it was slammed into the ground so it didn't build up any residual energies. I could easily overload a dagger, making it lose its edge or even melting the blade entirely if I wasn't careful. But if I was careful, the blades were fine and I could switch between magic and bladework seamlessly. Against human opponents, it gave me an edge of surprise that made all the caution worth it. There wasn't that surprise with demons or animals, but it was still effective.

We spent the afternoon closing the two rifts I'd felt nearby, and I was relieved to discover that with the Breach sealed, the rifts weren't nearly as painful to deal with. I wouldn't say it was comfortable, but it didn't knock me flat like it had.

“Well, was it worth the trip?” Solas asked after the second one. “You seem to have this mastered.”

I glanced over at him. “More to the point, I know I can sense the rifts, how accurate that sense is, and how much I can handle around closing them. All information that I wanted before we left Haven and ended up in the middle of a war zone.”

He blinked, then nodded to me. “My apologies. I had not understood the purpose of this exercise.”

“Well, that and leaving them open and having rifts this near Haven strikes me as damn stupid, if I'm here to close them. We can't keep everyone behind the walls as it is. All we need is to have someone eaten by some damn demon while they're sleeping to completely erode faith in us. If we can't protect our own, no one can expect us to protect anyone else.” Then I grinned. “Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I want some mutton for dinner. Let's go find some.”

We staggered back an hour before dinner was usually served, each of us with a sheep over our shoulders. Solas benefited greatly from the load-lessening spell I taught him, and seemed surprised both that I had knowledge he didn't, and that I was so skilled at conveying it. “I've been the only teacher seven children have had for two years,” I told him, “while we've been on the run. One of the kids came up with the spell because her pack was too heavy for her. I was monitoring, noticed the drain, went from there.”

“You monitored seven children? In the wild? Alone?”

“Why does everyone say that like I just admitted to riding a flaming goat through Val Royeaux without anyone noticing?”

“Because it's about that impressive,” Cassandra said dryly. “You didn't get so much as one abomination, one lost child, one anything. Seven children on the run is amazing enough in itself. Seven mageborn children, that much more.”

I thought about the close calls, the scares, the time Meera had gotten taken and we'd needed to rescue her. “I did what I had to,” I said flatly. “As I'm doing now. Come on, let's get these to the cooks. Then I'll find a goat to set on fire and ride.”

I got another odd sideways look from Solas, probably wondering if I meant it or not. But we managed well enough, and the cooks were certainly glad to see us. Or our meat, at least.


	5. And we're off!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: reference of non-con.

The next morning, it was time to go. A day's travel to the first camp, and then – well. War zone, and I had to find one woman in the refugee camp who wanted to talk to me. At least that silly hat Chantry Mothers wore would make her stick out.

I'd never admit it, but that hat was one of the reasons I'd wanted to be a templar instead of a sister or a mother. My mother was appalled, always saying a lady didn't fight. It took breaking my older brother's nose to get her to accept that maybe, just maybe, this one did. And that if I was going to fight anyway, it would probably be best to put me among other fighters.

I sighed. My mother was probably having a fit of the vapors, right about now, at the thought of her delicate little girl roughing it in a camp like this. Never mind that she'd made quite sure I was disowned when it turned out I had magic, and even more so when I ran from the Circle. I still had the Trevelyan name, and as such, there were standards.

“Not cheerful thoughts this morning?” Varric asked, walking besides me.

“Thinking about what my family is going to think of all this. I'm predicting a fit of the vapors, at a minimum. I can't decide if I'm likely to get disowned for the third time or not, though.”

“Disowned a third time?”

“It wouldn't even surprise me if I'm disowned even as they endorse the Inquisition. Depends on how the Chantry's been treating my family lately. If they're actually being held to account, or still able to buy their way out of everything.”

Cassandra grunted. “Your family sounds much like mine.”

I blinked, looked over at her. “You're noble too?”

“I'm of the royal family of Nevarra, distant cousin of the king.”

“My sympathies.”

She laughed, startled. “Yes, exactly. They want nothing to do with me, since I refused to marry at their command and live as they would have me. I am better off without them.”

“While we're rebuilding the world, can we do something about the nobility, do you think?” I asked hopefully. “Make them all work for a living?”

“If only.”

Varric eyed me sideways. “King of Ferelden knew Curly from templar training.”

“Yes, I knew Alistair too,” I said. “Though the idea of him as king is frightening. Cullen was driven even as a child. Alistair – Alistair wanted to be anywhere else, and he made absolutely sure everyone else knew it. I considered throwing myself and the kids on his mercy, if the Conclave failed.” I frowned. “Well. If it failed in the way I'd expected it to. But it doesn't surprise me that he became a good king. He knows what it is to be at the bottom of the heap, and what it is to go without. That said, I bet he doesn't need a court jester.”

“You know, we're in Ferelden. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say rude things about the king inside the borders of his own country.”

I raised my eyebrows at Varric. “First of all, it's Ferelden, not Orlais. Pretty sure rude comments about the rulership is normal here. Second, Alistair would have to have really changed for him to consider that anything other than flattery. I know I haven't seen him since I was twelve, but I still have a hard time seeing that changing.”

“So you're aware of political situations.”

“As much as I could be, on the run. As there's time, I'm going to get a better idea from Josephine and Leliana, given that I'm the family mascot.”

Cassandra tilted her head at that. “Do you feel you don't belong?”

I sighed, wiggled my marked hand. “I wish I'd had a real choice,” I said finally. “It's not that I'd have made a different one. It's that it wasn't mine to begin with. Or if it was, I don't remember the choice that put me on this path, and that's almost worse. So yes, I feel like I don't belong. Everyone else at that table is someone who's strong in faith, who believes, who chose. I would never have been at that table were it not for this mark. I certainly wouldn't have joined something that's so very Chantry-centric. I lost faith in the Chantry years ago.”

“But not in the Maker?”

I laughed weakly. “That comes and goes. But no, I've never truly lost faith in the Maker. In the humans that serve, though – I have a family that buys piety, and seen a Chantry that sells it. I've seen the nobles and the Chantry support each other and crowd out everyone else. I've seen belief used as a whip against the disobedient. And I see a world soaked in blood, both sides screaming of the rightness of their cause and the virtue of their position. So I guess I believe in the Maker, but not in those that claim to speak for Him.”

“I'm surprised you were even at the Conclave,” Solas said.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “It was a chance. Among other things, it was a chance to feed eight people on someone else's coin for a few days. I had hope for the Conclave, but I'd be lying if the food and safety wasn't a huge consideration.”

Varric laughed. “Somehow, that makes me feel better about you, Whirly. Pragmatism. That's what we need.”

“When did I become Whirly?”

“I can't use the same name Curly uses for you! People will think I've lost my imagination or something.”

“Pragmatism is important,” Cassandra said grudgingly, “but what of the goal? Did you only hope for meals and a bed for a week or two?”

“Okay, first of all, food and a bed is hardly only. Not after two years of barely having either. I had hopes for more, but before everything else comes food, safety. You can't think straight when you're hungry for long enough, did you know that? All kinds of things start seeming reasonable. Even worse is seeing children that rely on you being hungry. They try to share, and none of us have enough, and we all get thinner and thinner and barely struggle by. You want to know what my ideals are? That living like that isn't safer than a Circle for mageborn children. That they're safe and have choices in their life. Templar children, too. We were speaking of Alistair? He didn't want to be a Templar. He probably would have done a good job, but he would have been miserable, and it wasn't his choice either. Do you have any idea how many templars there are that hate it? That want to be anywhere else, and blame the mages they're supposed to be guarding? Everyone's stuck, no one wants to be there, and the minute anyone crosses any of the lines their higher-ups actually care about, they're doomed. But which lines are real and which lines aren't don't match the ones the Chantry says are supposed to be. You want a goal? How about never needing to rescue a too-pretty girl from a Circle because some sick bastard wants to make her a Tranquil sex-toy?”

There was silence for a few minutes, as we stomped on towards the camp we were hoping to reach tonight. “That should never happen,” Cassandra said finally. “We all failed there.”

“My goal is to make amends to the children I didn't take, so I stop seeing them when I close my eyes,” I said finally. “The ones I didn't know needed rescue, the ones I couldn't rescue. All the ones that weren't saved in time. I suspect that list is only going to get longer, now. I'll trust the Chantry when their goal is to protect the children from hunger, from tyranny, from slavery in name or deed. Can we remake the world to do that?”

Cassandra looked at me, lips twisted in a wry smile. “We can try.”


	6. Hinterlands Part 1

We spent the rest of the day in banter considerably more idle, mostly involving Varric telling improbably tall tales based on suggestions we'd give him. It was oddly strange, traveling in the open, freely, without worry. We weren't careless by any stretch, but I could trust my companions to defend themselves, for a change. We reached the designated campsite without incident, and while I could tell there were rifts somewhat nearby, nothing was close enough that I couldn't sleep. Besides, there were soldiers keeping watch. Soldiers that weren't me. Even a bedroll on the ground was luxury if it gave me uninterrupted sleep.

Of course luxury had to be paid for in blood and toil. The next morning found us in the middle of a war zone, mages and templars both deciding that today was a good day to have their battle in the middle of the refugee camp. What kind of sick bastards use refugees as human shields, anyway?

Mother Giselle, at least, struck me as a reasonable woman. Someone that actually cared about getting help to people, not getting piety points in some holiness contest. Which, of course, made her unpopular. Another point in her favor. She wanted me to speak to the Chantry mothers, the ones that could be swayed, and prove to them I wasn't actually a fire-breathing demon. Or whatever they believed about me at any given moment. It wasn't a bad idea, at any rate, though I wasn't going to leave the camp here until I was sure it wasn't about to become another battleground.

I think I shocked Cassandra slightly, though, when I casually took the moneypurse off one of the dead when we were piling up the bodies for a pyre. “What?”

“It's practical,” she said grudgingly, “but I did not expect it.”

“I've fought bandits before. These slobs are no better, for all that they claimed purpose. They don't need money or weapons or armor where they're going, and we do. Send them back to the Maker the way they came – naked and useless.”

Varric had to cover up a laugh with a cough. “Don't think much of templars, then?”

“These weren't templars. These were thugs with a uniform they used as an excuse to bully. This isn't protecting the common folk, serving the Maker, or anything else. This is playing who's got the big sword. No, I don't think much of them. Or the mages that went crazy with freedom, for that matter. Hey, look, no one's locking us up anymore, let's go run crazy in the countryside and prove to everyone we can't be trusted with freedom! That's a good plan! Assholes, the lot of them. They've taken enough from these people in life, they can give back a little in death.”

And the refugees needed everything we could give them. Food, blankets, clothing, basic healing, everything. I started with the simplest – food. One ram for each of us, carried back to the shantytown. I thought the hunter complaining about demons in the hills was about to pass out when we dropped them off.

“Is this enough to start with?”

“Herald, I – this is more than enough. Thank you.”

That pretty much set up the way things went. I'd deal with something, and went from that-woman to Herald. And every time, Cassandra looked more and more impressed, as though realizing people needed food somehow proved the Maker had sent me.

Or maybe it was refusing to take sides in the contest of epic stupidity, and instead recognizing that everyone fighting in the Hinterlands was a blithering idiot.

We spent a week there. By the time we left, the refugees were fed and warm, the Inquisition had a deal for horses and a horsemaster as soon as the sentry towers were built, and both the templars and the mages that had been fighting in the area had been dealt with. Every rift I could easily find was closed, we had a pile of weird glass pieces that creepy skulls had found, and I was exhausted.

The amount of empty farmland I'd seen concerned me, too. We had people with nothing to do, farmland with no one to take advantage of it, and starvation problems. All the pieces should be able to go together, but just taking the land would be a political shitstorm.

I'd also forgotten how much faster it is to move by horseback. We reached Haven only a little after lunchtime. And – it had grown. More people, spilling out in every direction. It was hard to believe we'd only been gone a week. “Hardly looks like the same place, does it?” Varric said softly.

“People want a chance to make a difference,” Cassandra said, eyes shining as she looked over the tents. “It's working already.”

“It's amazing what a little hope can do.”

“You know you're the agent of that hope.”

I mock-glared at her. “You're determined that I be the holy one in this, aren't you?”

“I'll accept chosen.”

“You're so gracious.”

She laughed. “It will be good to sleep in a bed again. And have food you didn't try to cook.”

“I warned you! Besides, could be worse. Could be Varric's cooking.”

We all laughed at that. Varric was incredibly proud of his total lack of living skills. In his eyes, that's what money was for. Which, really, was pretty much one of the best uses of money in my opinion anyway. And that reminded me of the stash we'd collected along the way. “I need to see Josephine. Could I beg one of you to please take care of my horse, so I can get everything finished before the children hunt me down? Once I stop moving, I won't get up again for three days.”

Cassandra snorted. “I think we can manage.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“No such thing. I'm protecting myself from the wrath of those children.”

I laughed. “Fine.” I swung down from the saddle, staggered. “Ugh. I am so out of riding condition.”

“It's nice to see there's something you don't do well,” Varric said cheerfully, “gives the rest of us a chance.”

I did a fairly decent replication of Cassandra's noise of disgust, to everyone's laughter, and staggered off. I really hadn't ridden in a long time. Ugh.

So I was staggering up to the Chantry, rather wishing there was a bathtub I could soak in, when I heard people yelling at each other. About who killed the Divine. I forced myself into a slow jog, muscles screaming with every step.

Just as I turned the corner, though, Cullen came out of the Chantry and walked right between the arguing people, not caring that he was standing between mages and templars. And made them all stand down and even look embarrassed at their behavior. I just leaned against a wall and admired his skill at getting everyone to stand down. No weapons, no threats, just making everyone feel like children caught squabbling over a sweet neither one was supposed to have anyway.

Of course then Roderick showed up, going on about how he wanted to know how we were going to restore order and how awful we were, and everything else. I made myself stagger forwards again, wishing for once that I used a staff. Not for magic, but just because it would help me stay upright. But I wasn't going to leave Cullen to deal with that windbag alone.

“Which is why this should all be left to a proper authority!” he was demanding.

“Who, you? A random cleric not even important enough to be at the Conclave?” Cullen demanded.

“More to the point, exactly how long should we wait?” I asked. “You'd have had us wait before, and instead I sealed the Breach. You'd have us wait now, and instead I went and made sure people near Redcliffe had food and blankets and weren't being attacked every five minutes. We've been waiting for the Chantry to be the proper authority for a really long time. Even without the demons, the rifts, the Breach, we've been waiting for a proper authority.”

He spluttered. “We need to elect a new Divine, obey her orders on the matter!”

“And how many people are going to die while we wait? While people argue and barter with money and lives? We need to get rid of the demons now. We need to seal the Breach for good before it's too late and the thing tears open again. We need to get people food and shelter and get them back on the farms before we all starve this winter from a lack of food. Does your proper authority have any answers to any of that?”

Roderick sputtered, but I heard my name being called and started turning. Just in time to see Toby running full out and crash into me. And since I was off balance, I staggered two steps and fell against Cullen, who laughed as he grabbed me by the shoulders to keep me upright.

Cullen kept laughing as he pushed me back onto my feet. “You can flip me, but Toby can take you down? I should have him training people!”

I snorted. “Horse. So out of condition for riding horses.” I paused, hugging Toby. “Also, some idiot decided it would be a good idea to try out their paces and maybe even have a short race this morning.” I blinked, looked at the shorter person that was trying to wedge between myself and Toby. “Hello. What's your name?”

She looked up at me, maybe five years old, thin, with huge eyes. Even for an elf she looked thin, weak. Underfed for who knew how long. “Jilly,” she said softly.

“I'm watching her,” Toby said proudly. “Her aunt is training to fight.”

“Toby's been very good about watching her,” Cullen said behind me. “You should be proud of him.”

Toby looked up at Cullen with his face radiating pride, and my heart squeezed. Cullen was taking the time to watch over my kids, to encourage them. To know what they were up to and make sure they were safe. I aimed a smile over my shoulder at Cullen, blinking away tears. “I am proud,” I said, kneeling down so Jilly could hug me more easily. “That's exactly what we're out there for. Taking care of each other.”

Roderick made a disgusted noise. “I wasn't finished talking to you.”

I held my arms out to Jilly, and she rushed in and grabbed hold. I picked her up, turning to face Roderick with Jilly on my hip. “You weren't finished. Let me finish it for you, then. You want me to go throw myself on the mercy of Val Royeaux, to stop going around doing things and sit around and wait like a good little girl until someone else tells me what I am and am not allowed to do, think, be. You want us all to put down our weapons and go sit in the corner like disobedient children until proper authority shows up and fixes things. You want everything to be as it was before the Conclave, when you knew where you fit and you had a place where everything made sense. But you know what? You've got the wrong enemy there. I'm the wrong enemy. But I'm a safe enemy, aren't I? You can yell at me all you want, and it's safe. Or.”

“Or?”

“Or you could realize that maybe you said some harsh words in a crisis, but that doesn't mean you can't apologize for them. That maybe you made a mistake. That maybe doing the task in front of you is better than trying to find a perfect answer first. If you have answers, I'm willing to listen. If you've got advice, I'll take it. But if all you have is waiting for someone else to fix it, I can't do that.” I paused, met his eyes. “And you shouldn't either.”

He stared at me, mouth opening and closing a few times. Then he turned and walked off, looking stunned. We all watched him go, a little surprised.

“You actually made him shut up,” Cullen said slowly. “I didn't think that was possible.”

“Neither did I.” I put Jilly back on her feet. “I've got some grownup work to do, sweetie. Can you play with Toby some more?”

She stared at me, then nodded firmly. Hugged my legs. And grabbed Toby's hand to drag him off somewhere.

“So. Some idiot decided you should race your horses?” Cullen asked as I stood up, wincing. “Would that idiot be someone I know, by any chance?”

I glared at him. “I dare you to go accuse Cassandra of being the idiot.”

“Oh now that's just mean.” He studied my face a moment. “How bad was it, really?”

“Horrible. Everyone was fighting everyone. The templars were running mad, claiming everyone was a mage or a mage sympathizer, and the mages – it's like they looked at the worst of Tevinter and took that as a goal. See how much horror they could cause in the least amount of time. Which reminds me, I need to talk to Josephine. See if there's some way we can get the farmers on the arable land without causing a war with Ferelden.”

“I'll walk you in. You look like you're about to collapse.”

“I wish I could. At least the demons make sense. If they're in this world, they go crazy and try to kill everything. Stop them, close rift, problem gone. But the people – the people have a million reasons and excuses and justifications, and it all works out to killing the other guy because they can. It's sickening.” I sighed. “I'm so tired. And this is only the beginning.”

Cullen opened the door to Josephine's office. “If it's any help, the changes you've made for Haven made a big difference. Things are running smoothly here, and your kids have been an amazing help. I've been keeping an eye on them.”

I smiled at him. “I know. I could tell by the way Toby responded to you. You've no idea how much that means to me.” Then I looked at Minaeve. “I've got presents for you!” I untied one of the bags off my belt, dumped it on her table. “Everything's labeled as best as I can tell. Lots of demon goo. I know you'll be careful, but you know. Be careful with it.” Then I turned. “And Lady Josephine, I have a present for you as well!” I untied the sack from the other side of my belt, dropped that on her desk. It chimed softly, the sound of coins bumping into each other.

Josephine stared at me for a moment, then carefully opened the bag and turned it over. Coins slithered free, silver and gold, along with some expensive jewelry that I'd found that needed a better market than the refugee camp. I poked at it quickly, finding the two signet rings I'd found and setting them to the side. “These rings were found on templars. I figure the families should be notified, at least, since we can find them. The rest was found on various combatants, or gotten from selling their ill-gotten loot.” I shrugged. “They don't need it anymore.”

Josephine poked at the stack. “We can do a lot with this,” she said slowly.

“Which reminds me. If you can think of something, there should be a way to get farmers on the arable farmland that no one currently seems to own. Can we hold it in trust for the proper owner, or the arl, or something? Turn it over as soon as someone claims it, but in the meantime, get some crops planted? Can you work something out?”

She looked a little dazed. “Crops?”

“I'd rather not starve this winter. It's going to be bad enough as it is.” I blinked, turned to Cullen. “You got my message about the watchtowers, right?”

“Elaine, you're asleep on your feet. This can all wait for tomorrow.” I glared. “Yes, I got the note, I've already got people working on it. You've dropped everything off, dealt with the farmland issue, told off the Chancellor, and are asleep on your feet. Go rest.”

My ears were buzzing. But then Josephine's head snapped up. “Told off the Chancellor? Cullen, I told you to just ignore him. You can't go riling up the man every time he crosses your path.”

“I didn't tell him off! Elaine did. I stood there and watched in admiration.”

The buzzing was worse, so I listened to it for a while. At one point I felt movement, and heard my name, but none of it mattered.


	7. Who Are We, Really?

I woke up in my bed. My boots were off, but otherwise I was dressed as I had been. Only last I'd remembered I'd been in Josephine's office.

Maker, tell me I wasn't sleepwalking again. Not after last time.

In any event, it smelled like cooking out there, and my stomach didn't share my sense of embarrassment. I'd missed too many meals in the past two years for anything to kill my appetite. So I found my boots and went outside.

Stopped and giggled when I saw Cullen talking with someone while giving Toby a piggyback ride. As though carting around random children on his shoulders was totally normal.

Made me wonder if he had children. A wife? I'd expect if he had a family they'd be around here somewhere, but I hadn't asked.

“Ellie!” Toby called out, and Cullen turned, grinned at me. Bounced over, with Toby sitting on his shoulders laughing his head off. “Hi, Ellie, are you better now?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Less tired, if that's what you mean. Though last I remember I was in Josephine's office?”

“You fell asleep standing up,” Cullen said wryly. “I had to carry you. You did at one point complain about artichokes being too hard to eat properly, and something about a fish battle?”

“Ellie talks in her sleep,” Toby mock-whispered. “Once she told me I needed to attack a hamster with a sewing needle.”

“I did?”

He nodded vigorously. “Right before you left!”

“Well. Thank you for taking care of me, then,” I said to Cullen, smiling. “And don't take anything I say about artichokes personally.”

“Um. Okay?”

Toby stared down at me and frowned. “Ellie, what's wrong?”

I sighed and held my arms up to him, and Cullen dropped him into my hold. “I saw a lot of people doing awful things,” I said into his hair, holding him close, “and it made me sad. I want to stop it, but it's hard.” Then I frowned. Lifted him slightly. “How much have you eaten in the week I was gone?”

He giggled. “All of it!”

“And you made Commander Cullen carry you around? I'm shocked! How could you?”

Toby giggled again. “He says I need to eat lots more if I want to be able to fight like him.”

My heart fell at the thought of Toby needing to fight, but I kept a smile on my face. “And is that what you want? To fight like him?”

“No, silly! I want to be like you!” He leaned in and whispered, very loudly, “You fight better.”

It was hard to fight a grin as I darted a glance at Cullen and his totally fake scowl. “Hey now!” he protested.

“I fought better last time,” I corrected Toby, still grinning. “I don't know who might win if we spar again.”

“When. I have my honor to regain.”

We smirked at each other a moment, and then Cullen looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway,” I said finally, confused by Cullen's reaction, “I smell food. If you're going to eat enough to fight like either of us, we'd better get some.”

Toby giggled again, and my heart thudded too tightly. It had been so long since I'd heard him laugh like that, carefree and trusting. He grabbed my hand and tugged me, babbling away about the food and the other children. I let him pull me along, smiling helplessly.

Before long, I had a huge bowlful of shepherd's pie and was surrounded by children, about half of who I recognized. People came and went to the fires, getting food as they wished, and I could see the difference since I'd left. The food was far more plentiful, and well-flavored. People were looking less pinched, less scared. I nodded to myself, and made a point of talking to anyone that came by. Which was mostly every child in the town.

Jilly, at one point, crawled onto my lap and fell asleep. Another child, a stocky dwarven boy who'd mumbled a name so quietly I couldn't hear it leaned against my side, not sleeping but definitely soothed by my presence. And for me?

I was happy. It was an almost foreign feeling, a smile stretching my face, but it was true. I was safe, needed, and finally able to actually do something useful. I was wanted for what I could actually do, not for what someone else thought I should be.

It seemed almost sinful, to be happy when so much was going wrong, but I didn't care. I'd lost everything three times now. I'd left home, left templar training, and left the Circle. This time – this time I'd gained hope and some safety for my children. I'd gained a purpose I could actually live up to. I was even making friends. Real friends, who didn't care about a useless title or whether or not they could twist me to their own ends.

Cassandra was simple. She believed, wholeheartedly, in the Maker, the concept of the Chantry, and doing what was needed to fix things. She felt about waiting for someone else to fix things about as I did. She hated the abuses, the horrors that had happened in the name of order, in the name of peace. And while she'd suspected me, she'd been fair at the time and more so now that she believed me innocent. Really, the only problem I had with Cassandra was the fear that she saw me more as Herald than as Ellie. Like I'd told her – I could handle being chosen, but being holy just wasn't happening. Regardless, we both believed in what we were doing. And I appreciated the combination of straightforward and dedicated.

Varric – Varric was as twisty as Cassandra was straightforward. He claimed to be uncaring, along for the ride, nothing but a hapless wanderer. And yet he was shrewd, cunning, and as devoted as Cassandra, in his way. The biggest difference was that his devotion was to people, not the Maker. People he could comprehend. The Maker he left to others. I had to say, I agreed. Quietly, when Cassandra was out of earshot, of course.

It was Solas I found most confusing. He spoke of the Fade, of the Veil and fixing things. And yet – something about him I did not trust. I didn't think he was lying, exactly. Mostly, he reminded me of First Enchanter Lydia from Ostwick. Willing to make the sacrifices that shouldn't be made, so that half were sold to buy safety for the other half. It wasn't that I didn't trust him. It was that I did – to make the decisions he felt was best, even if that meant sacrificing things that should never be sacrificed.

Leliana sat down with me with her own bowl of food, and I realized I needed to get to know her better – her and Josephine. If they were part of the leadership, knowing them meant knowing the course. And getting to know Cullen better again, of course. A lot had happened between him being fourteen and now. To both of us.

“You've done a lot over the past week,” Leliana said to me with a smile. “I'm impressed.”

“Well I wasn't going to leave it half-done and have to go back!”

Leliana laughed, sounding almost wistful. “Reminds me of my time on the road.”

“There's always room for more.”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “No. My place is here. If I go with you, I can't organize my people. I'd be blinded and bound. It's best I stay here and direct the scouts.”

“I figured you'd say that. Offer's open, though, if your feet get too itchy.”

Leliana laughed softly. “It's funny. Right after the Blight, I would have said nothing could make me want to run around the countryside again. And yet, there is something to that. To see the results first-hand of your work, to know what you're doing is helping people.”

“And yet, if there weren't people like you, keeping the information moving and making sure the children were safe, I'd never leave Haven. Even for the rifts.” I looked down at Jilly, asleep in my lap. “Or at least, I'd feel horrible about it. Just because I'm the one out in the field doesn't mean it isn't all of us making a difference.”

She blinked, and her face softened. “Thank you. I know that, but – it's still important to hear it. To be reminded. Sometimes it feels I do more with papers than people.”

“Sometimes I feel like I'm putting out a hundred tiny candles while ignoring the house on fire.”

She met my eyes, and we grinned at each other. “You really are helping,” Leliana said. “Even if all you did was close rifts, it would be astonishing. And you do far more than that. Speaking of, we're meeting in the war room tonight, about going to Val Royeaux.”

I made a face, but nodded. “Wake up, Jilly, you need to go to bed.”

She scowled, but got up and ran off, as did most of the other children. The little dwarven boy just stared at me, though.

“Do you have a place to go?”

He shook his head, looked sad. I signaled Lori over. “He needs a place to stay. Can we make room for one more?”

“Sure!” Lori chirped, holding out a hand to the boy. “Come with me, we'll make room for you.”

He lit up, stared at me. “Me?” he whispered.

“You,” I said, poking him lightly on the nose. “Lori will find a space for you and make sure you get a bedroll. You're one of mine now for as long as you want.”

He stared for a long moment, then threw his arms around me and hugged me fiercely. I had to gasp for him to let loose enough that I could breathe. “I'll be good, I promise,” he said through held-back tears. “I'll be a good boy. Just let me stay.”

“He was found by one of our hunters,” Leliana said quietly. “He's refused to give a name other than Bryan or say where he lived. I don't know if he still has family.”

“He has family now,” I said firmly. “The Inquisition.” I looked down at him. “Right?”

He nodded firmly, tears still bright in his eyes. “Right.”

“But I've got work, and you look tired. So why don't you go with Lori, and I'll see you in the morning, okay? I promise.”

He nodded jerkily a few times, then took the hand Lori held out and walked away with her. I watched them go, then turned back to Leliana. “As long as there's space, I want children kept indoors if they don't have family to stay with. Bed them down in the Chantry if need be. Can we do that?”

“You do know he's not a mage, don't you?”

I stared at her a moment. “He's a dwarf. If we've got dwarven mages running around, we've passed the end of the world and entered Fade-induced madness. Or maybe some other kind of madness, given dwarves and the Fade.”

“It's just that I thought you,” she paused.

“Only cared about the mageborn children?”

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

It was then I realized my eyes were tearing up. “It's not you. Or, well. It's the fact that it's true for so many people. Our kind, not your kind, not all kinds. Mage children first, because they're my kind. Or humans, or nobles, or Marchers, or whatever. It's that you can believe without question that I would look to mageborn children first, because that's what we do.” I shook my head, wiped away my tears. “It's not that they're mageborn. It's that they're children, and they need someone to love and to watch over them.”

“What about adults?” Leliana asked with a smile.

“They're on their own.”

“That's not what my reports say.”

I stuck my nose in the air, pretending to be a haughty noble. “Well, yes, someone must care for the lesser folk.” Then I made a face. “Dear Andraste, that sounded just like my mother. Ew.”

Leliana laughed. “It is a fate we all suffer, no? Come. Let us consider how we will appeal to the Chantry.”

I made a face. “It's a good thing I've got strong stomach, or I'd complain about your timing.”

She laughed again as we went in, meeting the others along the way.


	8. Mages Aren't People?

Josephine started. “Before we deal with Val Royeaux, there are a few minor details that we should address. Since we're here.”

My left hand itched faintly, like there was a rift nearby. But I hadn't felt it until I was in the room. “Are there new rifts?” I asked.

They all looked at me. “No, why?”

I rubbed my hand, where the mark was. “Something feels odd. Like it does around demons, or fade rifts. From when I entered the room. I don't know, maybe it's the Breach. It always itches here. Anyway. You had something for us?”

“Your family responded.”

“Oh Maker. How?”

“Your mother denounced you, your father sent a purse of coin, and three different more distant family members have invoked your name and the Inquisition as personal allies in the Game.”

I blinked a few times. “People are invoking me as an arbiter in their little squabbles? Like I care?”

“We need to do something about it. Leaving it be would encourage them to continue. I suggest we make some kind of statement to them about future understandings, if they would rein in their more vocal members.”

“We could hint that the Inquisition does not favor such comments,” Leliana said thoughtfully. “Hint that if they continue, something awful might happen.”

“Why hint?” Cullen snorted. “Say it publicly that they've nothing to do with us. Denounce them as they are.”

Josephine sighed. “That's not how it's done, Cullen, you know that.”

I shook my head. “No, it's how it should be done, though. Why shouldn't we be straightforward? Why not be upfront about it? They're trying to capitalize on something that doesn't exist. Why not just tell everyone they're lying?” I sighed. “Plus, we hint that we're willing to play rough, someone's going to push, and I'm going to want to make them suffer for it. I don't want to be tempted. They're not worth even that much.” I stared at the war table, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. “Denounce them. They can't even so much as acknowledge me as family, and they want to trade off what power I have? Fuck that.”

Cassandra snorted, and Josephine sighed. “Very well. I'll draw something up that's at least remotely diplomatic.”

I looked up, smiled weakly. “I do appreciate it. I just – I can't give them anything. Not them. What else do we have?”

“I got the note on the watchtowers,” Cullen said, “and I've got people already out there working on them. They should be done in short order.”

“I'd like to have some scouts look through the tunnels around here,” Leliana said. “There was a dragon cult here for some time, and before that the actual sacred ashes. It would be interesting to see if there's anything they left behind, anything useful or historical. It's not anything we could consider a priority, but I'd like to put people on it anyway.”

“We're living here,” I said with a smile. “It's never a bad idea to investigate the area you're living in. If we have the people, I'm for it.”

“And now, Val Royeaux,” Cassandra said glumly. “We have to speak to the Mothers, see if any of them can see reason.”

“Or at least prove to them I'm not actually a demon, a Tevinter magister, darkspawn, Andraste herself, or any of the other things they're saying about me.”

Cullen started laughing. “Someone claimed you were Andraste?”

“Oh, sure, you can laugh. Though I'm not sure if she meant Andraste or the Maker's second wife. Regardless, it was completely creepy, and I really wish people would stop treating me like a holy figure!” A glance at Cassandra, who just grinned back at me. “Ugh,” I said, doing my best to match her sound of absolute disgust.

The room was dead silent for a moment, then everyone started laughing. It was some time before we were able to get back to work and set up an agreement to leave the day after next.

I found myself looking at the route we were to take, tapping my fingers from one rift to the next, tiny green pins marking reported ones. “I keep thinking these should fit a pattern, but they don't,” I said to Leliana's questioning look. “But since they're there, we might as well close them as we go. Every one closed is that much less danger.” I traced out a route that mostly followed the road, but hit three of the rifts along the way. Tapped the third, so close to Val Royeaux. “I think this is the route we should take, and we should plan for closing rifts in the timing. Whatever they think of me is irrelevant compared to the danger if we leave these open. Especially this last one.”

Josephine nodded. “Leliana and I will make sure they know when to expect you. Hopefully some kind of agreement can be reached.”

“I'd be happy if they just stopped calling for my head,” I said wryly. “The world is in chaos, and they're busy arguing over who has the right to put out fires. It's insane.”

“Welcome to Val Royeaux,” Leliana said wryly. “I think that's everything?”

I scratched at my left hand again. It itched. “I hope so.” I waved the hand towards Josephine's office, wondering if I was sensing the research materials I'd brought.

Cullen's voice cut in. “Elaine. Do you need me to get Solas?”

I shook my head. “No, I don't think so? It must be the Breach.” I moved my hand, and felt the itching grow stronger. At Cullen. My eyes flicked up to him, and I grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve. “Or you could be running around with a demon-infested wound, you idiot,” I snarled, staring at the red, angry scratch on his arm.

His eyes flicked to it, then back to mine. “I didn't know it was infested. I'll speak to the healers after this.”

“Or I could heal it.”

His face closed, and he pulled back his arm. “No!”

I froze, stared up at his face. “What?”

“No, thank you. I'll take care of it,” he said stiffly.

I'll take care of it. Don't cast that filthy magic on me. Stay away. I don't trust you. I don't trust what you are.

“Forgive me,” I said softly. “I'll be going then.” And I turned and left, darting through the Chantry quickly, ignoring my name being called behind me.

I used my magic to make me less interesting, less visible. Not invisible, simply uninteresting. No one would notice me unless they were specifically looking for me. Like that, I ran through Haven, out the walls and out into the cold, away from the tents and people and light.

How had I forgotten? I was a mage, and he was a templar, and mages couldn't be friends with templars. Couldn't be trusted, couldn't use their magic, couldn't be real people. He might be fair, might be safe for my children, but that was what a good templar did, wasn't it? Protect mages. That didn't mean he'd let one actually use magic on him.

It didn't mean we were real people to him.

I ran until I found a good tree to climb, grabbing the branch without breaking stride and swinging myself upwards. No one ever looked up, and I could stay in the tree until everyone went away. Until I could face people again.

Maker, I'd thought better of him. I suppose that made me the fool. Knowing someone at fourteen didn't mean I'd know him almost twenty years later. Acting like we were both the same was proof I hadn't been thinking at all.

Worst of it was, I probably owed him an apology. How many times had I been warned that people didn't trust magic? That templars in particular refused magical healing because trusting mages even that much was a security risk? But no, I'd assumed he'd welcome it, assumed he'd trust me without question.

And, really, why should he? When he'd last known me, I wasn't a mage. Trusting me in fighting was easy. He could defend himself, knew what to do. But magic – he could either let me do as I pleased, or stop me from doing anything at all. Nothing in the middle.

I curled up, back against the tree trunk, and tried to not cry. He was still a decent man. Still keeping my children safe. That he'd reacted badly when I overstepped was my fault, not his.

And my damn hand was starting to itch, right as I heard footsteps. Of course he'd come after me. I curled up tighter, wishing he'd just go by, not see me. Not notice.

It would be more likely to be successful had it not snowed earlier today, and if I hadn't left a clear trail of footprints right up to the tree. He stopped when he reached the trunk, looked up. “Elaine.”

“Elaine Trevelyan is dead,” I said in a shaking voice. “She died age twelve, when she was discovered to be mageborn and was removed from templar training. I am only Ellie.”

He let out a sigh. “Ellie, then. I'm sorry.”

“For what? I overstepped. I know my bounds, but I forgot. The fault is mine. I accept it.”

He stared up the tree. “What is this?”

“I overstepped. You've made it too easy to forget who I am, what I am. I forgot Elaine is dead.”

“Stop saying that!”

“She was a person. I am a mage. I forgot.”

“Maker's Breath. Elaine, I am not angry at you!”

“Elaine is dead!”

“The hell you are!” He turned away, rubbed the back of his neck. “I hurt you. I didn't mean to.”

“I overstepped. You had every right.”

“You didn't overstep. You made an offer, and I reacted badly because I was embarrassed I'd been walking around with an infested wound for a week and hadn't gotten it seen to yet!”

I picked my head up off my knees, looked down at him. “You what?”

He sighed again. “Do you think I like realizing I was an idiot? I thought it just wasn't healing properly. That I could ignore it. Everything I tell my people to not do, and I went and did it. I haven't dealt with demons since you left, so this has to be from before you sealed the Breach. It had nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with magic. Everything to do with me feeling stupid.” He turned back, looked up the tree. “I was busy, and there was so much to do, so I didn't get it looked at. I didn't think it was a big deal.”

“It won't heal properly until you get the demon essence out,” I said softly. “One way or another, it has to come out.”

He sighed. “I know. Can't say I'm looking forward to that, either.”

“It's not the magic?”

“No! I trust you. Mark, magic, or blade, I'd trust you at my side or my back. I trust the Herald, for everything I've seen since you showed up. And, I trust my friend, who rescued seven children from Tranquility simply because it needed to be done. Who kept them alive, and kept them learning, and fought for them against everything that came their way. The one that refused to wait for a proper authority to fix things.” He smiled wryly. “You say Elaine died. I see in those acts the same girl I knew before she disappeared. She may have gone to sleep for a while, while you tried to play proper Circle mage, but she's not dead. Are you.”

I stared down at him, tears falling again but for a totally different reason. “You make me sound like some kind of hero.”

“I know seven children that would say that you are, without question, even before you add Herald in. The one thing you wanted before facing the Breach? To ask me to look after those children in case you died. Nothing for yourself. What is that if not heroic?” He looked away again. “I've had some bad experiences with magic. I've seen what happens, when it all goes wrong. I've distrusted the wrong people, put too much faith in those I was told to trust and didn't listen to my instincts. I'm wary, yes. But that doesn't mean I don't trust you. It means I don't trust myself.” He looked back, held out his hands. “Please, come down. Elaine.”

“I'm going to be pushy and opinionated and use magic as I see fit,” I warned.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Good.”

I stared another moment, and he just waited, smile on his face, arms out to catch me if I needed them. As if. I grabbed the branch and summoned the wind, letting it spin me and whirl me slowly to the ground, hair flying in every direction as I landed lightly, facing him. Let the wind die, as I stared at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

He was staring, jaw dropped. “How?” he asked finally. “I've never heard of magic doing that.”

“Combination of weight control and wind,” I answered. “It requires a lot of concentration, though, so I'd only use it for emergencies. Or showing off.”

A grin slowly tugged at his face. “Testing me?”

“A little.”

“And if I ask for your help, with this scratch?”

I snorted. “It's hardly a scratch.”

“Fine. Demon infested wound.”

I sighed. “You don't have to. Maybe I didn't overstep, but I did overreact. It's just – I'm tired. I'm tired of having to pretend I can't use magic, of pretending I'm not an apostate. Of pretending that it's not as much a part of me as my arm is. It's been almost twenty years since we saw each other, but somehow, I keep forgetting we've both been changed by our lives, in different directions. It's too easy to be friends like we were, and I do forget.”

“For both of us. I do keep forgetting you have magic, even as you use it. Maybe I should call you Ellie, remember you're not the same girl you were.”

“I like that you call me Elaine. It reminds me of when I was happy.”

“What happened when you went to the Circle, that you were so unhappy there?”

I snorted. “I was a traitor, as far as the templars were concerned. I had abandoned them to be a mage. And the mages saw me as a templar. I walked like one, practiced fighting when I could find a spare place. I refused to fall out of condition, even though Ostwick frowned on anything physical at all for mages. We weren't even allowed flavorful food, for fear it might tempt us. I'd gone from happy and safe with friends to unwanted at every turn, with the people I was supposed to be able to trust trying to trap me into a mistake at every turn. Even disowned, I was still a Trevelyan, and in Ostwick that meant something. Had I been sent anywhere else, I'd be Tranquil and I know it. Or dead. And all that, at twelve. I survived out of spite, because I would not let them break me. Even after,” I paused, looked away, “everything, I would not let them break me.”

“Elaine,” he whispered, his voice pained. “I'm sorry.”

I snorted harshly. “You weren't to know. No one from templar training was ever to know. You might have sympathy, you see. See me as a person. We couldn't have that. Couldn't risk that I might tempt a templar into seeing us as real people. So there I was, stuck between two worlds, not allowed in either one. And I still left them notes, letting them know about the phylacteries. Because it was the right damn thing to do.”

He made a strange noise, and I looked at him. “What? You don't believe me?”

He swallowed, eyes wide. “I believe you. But you're covered in lightning.”

“What?” I looked down at myself, at little crawling bolts of electricity. “Shit.” Eyes closed. Deep breaths. I could control this. My will was stronger than my anger, stronger than my pain. Stronger than memory. Slowly the air stopped smelling faintly of ozone, stopped feeling like the hush before battle. The power dropped away. Slowly I opened my eyes again.

To my surprise, he was actually still there, and looking – well, calmer than I'd expected. And he hadn't just Silenced me, which was also surprising. And a relief, since getting hit with Silence felt a lot like getting hit with – well. Getting hit. “That's only supposed to happen in combat,” I said wryly.

“I'm glad it didn't happen while we were sparring!”

I laughed. “Sparring isn't fear. I knew you weren't going to hurt me. Memory, on the other hand.”

He nodded. “Memories hurt over and over.”

I saw pain in his eyes, remembered pain like my own. “All we can do is try to fix it, so it doesn't happen again.”

“That's why we're here.” His lips twitched. “And in the meantime, I really would appreciate if you could heal me. Now that I'm done being an idiot.”

My own lips twitched. “Really? Done? For how long?” I dodged the mock-blow he sent my way. “Come on, let's get back inside the walls first. Healing tends to make me oblivious to the world, and you can't stand guard and get healed at the same time.”

“You would trust me to stand guard?” he asked, walking back inside Haven.

“I trust you with my children's safety. My own is nothing compared to that.”

“Why do they mean so much to you? I'm not arguing, but – it's not a side I saw of you, before.”

“They saw me for who I was, not a pawn in the unending struggle of mage and templar. They were the innocents. I'd always wanted to help, to protect. In them I found those that truly needed it.” I paused, snorted. “And I'm still lying to protect him. It's because of Toby.”

“Toby? How?”

“Because when he first showed up, I agreed to be locked into a room with him to help him gain control. He was sparking fire in every direction, after setting a henhouse on fire. It took a templar constantly wielding Silence simply to get him to the Circle. He was terrified.”

“You let yourself get locked in a room with him?”

“It was that, or he was made Tranquil right out. At five. I couldn't stand by and let that happen. So, we were locked in a fireproof room. Food came three times a day, and I was to get him calm and to stop spewing flames.

“I'm still ashamed that at first, I was more interested in the challenge than Toby himself. I'd been bored for so long, that anything that looked like a challenge interested me.

“We were in that room for three weeks. By the end of it, I adored him. And that's when I realized why it was so very dangerous to care about anyone. Anyone that wanted to get to me, could start with him. And they did.”

I rubbed my face, sighed. “So I befriended other children, to protect Toby. Or so I told myself. But the joke was on me, because I couldn't pretend friendship with them. Every time a child hugged me, every time one cried on me, they wove themselves deeper into my heart. Instead of protecting Toby, I just made more targets. And how do you explain to a child that they are being punished to hurt you, and there's nothing you can do to protect them? How do you face their pain when it's deliberately caused?

“So I decided I would find a way to flee, and take the children with me. I spent a year practicing picking locks, finding how to get at the phylacteries, planning the escape. Even still, I'm not sure I would have done it, had they not made a point of threatening Toby again with being made Tranquil, knowing I would overhear. Tempting me to overstep. Bastards.”

Cullen just shook his head. “We thought Ostwick was calm.”

“It was. Very calm. Very quiet. As close to Tranquil as you could become without the Rite. Nothing was done overtly. That doesn't mean it wasn't bad.”

“Hey. You got them out.”

“Seven. How many more did I leave behind? How many more came after I left?”

He grabbed my chin, turned me to meet his eyes. “Don't think that way. You'll make yourself mad. There are always those you cannot save. What matters is the ones you did. The ones you still are, and the ones you're going to.”

“And do you follow that advice?”

“Honestly? No. But I try, because if I don't, I'll be useless to everyone.”

I nodded. “All right. I'll try. Have a seat,” I said, waving at the base of one of the trebuchets. “And if you're sure, give me your arm. But if you're not, I won't hold it against you.”

He sighed, glanced away for a moment. “Honestly? I'm not sure. But if we're going to make a difference, it has to start here, doesn't it? If I'm going to trust you, that needs to include magic, or it's meaningless.”

I sat next to him. “It doesn't mean you have to do everything at once.”

He pulled up his sleeve and held out his arm. “If you'd be so kind.”

I held my marked hand above the scratch and let my awareness spread out. There was definitely a trace of demonic essence in his arm, and I was able to dissolve it and let it flow through the mark back to the Fade. But – that wasn't the only thing I felt.

I frowned, let my hand move to where I felt the demonic traces. “Cullen, what happened to you?” I cried out.

He'd gone stiff. “What do you mean?”

“There's the tiniest traces of demon in your head. Like sticky fingerprints.”

“You can feel that?”

I pulled away slightly so I could see his face. He looked angry, but beneath the anger, hurt. And shame. “You don't have to tell me,” I said softly. “Can I clean it up anyway?”

“Please,” he whispered. Staring at his knees.

I carefully unraveled each sticky demonprint on his mind, gently tugging each from the scar tissue that surrounded it. Cullen sat stock-still, hands clenching each other, eyes staring straight ahead, whistling air through clenched teeth with every breath.

I worked as quickly as I could, but I focused more on being thorough. Whatever this was, it was old and deeply woven into him, and it couldn't be healthy. It felt like sick, twisted desire, the kind that made any decent person feel only self-disgust. No wonder he looked haunted sometimes.

Finally I was done, the last tiniest thread pulled free. I sagged against him, exhausted. “That's everything. And, no, I have no idea what it was, just that it was there and now it isn't.”

He took a deep shuddering breath. “Do you know how it got there?”

I picked my words carefully. “I would guess a failed possession attempt. It felt like the sticky fingerprints children get on everything. Just the residue, but enough to make everything messy and unpleasant.”

“Failed.”

“Yes.”

He gusted out a sigh and almost curled up on himself. “It's been years,” he whispered, probably to himself. Then his gaze snapped to me. “The Breach – could that have made it worse?”

“Maybe? I don't know enough to say. I sincerely doubt anyone could give you more than a guess. And I assume you'd rather I didn't go asking questions that might lead to other questions.”

“No. You're right. I appreciate that.”

I rested my head on his shoulder a minute, offering comfort simply by being there. “If you need to talk, I'm here. If you want to be distracted, I can tell you about what Varric's been up to.”

Cullen glanced over. “Dare I even ask?”

“He's been trying to convince us to bet on what kind of demons each rift is going to spit out. Which was funny, because we caught him trying to get that information out of the scouts. I thought Cassandra was going to skin him.”

Cullen laughed softly. “You know, he made a point of spending time with me on the boat from Kirkwall. Said I spent too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it was bad for my health.”

“He's so very considerate! I bet you felt all warm and fuzzy, knowing he was looking out for you like that. Did you know him when you were both in Kirkwall?”

“Not really. I ran into him a few times, and knew he was friends with Hawke, but that was about it.”

“So how many liberties did Varric take with his book? I've read it, but I can't say I trust him as a reliable authority.”

“Maker's breath. I come across like an ass in that book.”

“Am I to take that as it's accurate and you were an ass, or it's inaccurate and you weren't?”

“Some of each, really.”

“Really?”

“I made a lot of mistakes in Kirkwall, and I didn't question as much as I should. I figured the mage dissatisfaction was the same as it was everywhere. And Meredith used me as her reasonable face, hiding from me what I should have known. I was Knight-Captain. There's no way I couldn't know the truth of what was going on, right? Only I didn't. So, yes, I look like an ass. And I deserve it.”

“When you said you had a lot to atone for. Kirkwall?”

He just nodded, and I leaned back against his shoulder. “If it's any consolation, I'm glad you're here. Even if I am a horrible apostate and should be terrified of you.”

He snorted, rested his head against mine. “You're the Herald of Andraste. You could tell me to leave and Cassandra would probably throw me off the mountain.”

“Tell me you don't believe in this Herald stuff.”

“Well.”

“Maker. Cullen, you and Alistair once used me as the ball in a game of catch. You can't possibly see me as chosen.”

“You were who we needed when we needed you most. And this whole time, you could be making demands, asking for things. What are you doing? You're taking care of people. The only demand you've made was about keeping your children safe. I know some of the people at that Conclave. I don't know if you were the best person there for this, but I know damn well there were a lot who would be worse. Honestly, I can't see you as anything but chosen. You're who we needed, when we needed you. What else is that?”

I sighed. “Unlucky?”

“Doesn't that go along with chosen?”

“You start acting worshippy at me, I'm going to fry your eyebrows off. You know that, right?”

There was a moment of startled silence, and then he laughed, richly. “You realize now I'm going to have to. With witnesses.”

“They won't save you.”

“No, I'd be helping prove your lack of holiness to everyone. It would be a favor.”

I snorted. “Right. You said Cassandra would throw you off the mountain for me?”

His arm shot out and he caught me in a headlock. “Just try it, minx.”

“Ack! Let me go!”

“Or what? No, first you have to promise to not get me thrown off the mountain. I'm scared,” he said in a calm, reasonable tone. “So I can't let go until you promise my safety.”

I tried to pull against him, but the sneaky bastard had a good grip. I saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye, tried to hold back the giggles. Failed.

In moments we were leaning against each other, laughing our heads off. “You don't smile enough and it's bad for your health?” I asked finally. “Really?”

He grinned back, and I saw the boy I'd known in his face. “Don't say anything, you'll ruin my reputation.”

I laughed, then yawned until my jaw cracked. “Ow! Okay, it's clearly past my bedtime.” I stood, stretched. “Hopefully Toby didn't steal my bed again, and they found space for Bryan somewhere that I won't step on him.”

“Bryan?”

“Little dwarven boy the hunters found. Didn't have anywhere else to go.”

“You keep collecting kids in there, you're going to run out of space.”

I snorted. “I'm leaving again day after tomorrow, and I'll be on the road how long? I think the kids need shelter more than I do.”

He just rolled his eyes. “But you're totally not worthy of being chosen or anything. Got it.”

“You trying to make me end up curled up in a ball in the corner terrified?”

“Is that what chosen means to you?”

“The Chantry not only wouldn't let me stay with the templars, but made certain the ones I'd made friends with would never be in a position to see me again because it turned out I was mageborn. The Circle I went to did everything they could to make me falter so they could either kill me as an abomination or make me Tranquil. My family disowned me, and I spent two years doing absolutely anything to keep those children alive while on the run. If this is chosen, I could use less of it. I don't want to be a chosen one. I want to be a person, with friends. I want to be an equal. Not holy, not evil. Just a person.”

His lips twitched. “You coming here and getting the mark is chosen,” he said finally. “But Elaine? I could never see you as anything but a person. Chosen or not, do you really think I could see you as a holy person when I'm going around putting you in a headlock?”

I blinked, then giggled. “No, you're right. And thank you. For the friendship, not the headlock. I'll see you in the morning.”

Much to my surprise, when I got to my cabin I found my bed empty. I flung myself across it and was out in moments.


	9. Mine's Biggest, Shove off.

The next day was mine, completely unscheduled. I took the morning to go sledding with the children, racing down snowbanks and having snowball fights. It was silly, it was fun, and by the time we went back inside, we were all laughing and half-frozen.

After lunch, I was just wandering through Haven to the Chantry when I overheard Leliana's voice raised in anger. “There were so many questions surrounding Farrier's death. Did he think we wouldn't notice?” And then she said words that struck a chill to my spine: “You know what must be done.”

“What?”

She rounded on me. “He betrayed us! He killed one of my agents!”

I shook my head. “That's not restoring order. Knives in the darkness is just changing one chaos for another. He betrayed us, he deserves a trial if at all possible. I'm not saying we give him a cookie and a pat on the head. I'm saying we need to decide if what we're doing is instituting order, or just being the new toughs.”

She turned away, stared at her tent wall. “You feel very strongly about this.” A sigh. “All right. I will find some other way to deal with this man.” She told her messenger to bring him in alive. “And if you're happy, I have work to do.”

I nodded, backed away. Wondered at my nerve, daring to stand up to her. And yet, she was wrong. Fixing things didn't mean doing the same thing for other reasons. It meant being better than the easiest solution.

And if I meant that, I should probably do something about the mage/templar issues we were having right here. Ugh.

Still, it needed doing. So I turned my feet to find where I knew some of the templars we'd gotten were training, a bit away from the raw recruits. Watched them for a while. Strolled over, when they took a break.

“I think you're lost,” one of the bigger men said, looking down at me. “Recruits are over there.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “I'm not a recruit. I'm the Herald.” Maker, I'd said that without even stuttering! Title was growing on me, I guess. “I'm seeing if you have everything you need.”

The templar looked her over. “Thought the Herald was a mage,” he sneered. “You don't look like much of a mage.”

Ah shit. “I'm here to see if you have what you need. If you're set, I'll be on my way.” I didn't want to play domination pissing games today. Given that I was facing a templar, I centered myself, readied to take a Silence without being stunned.

“I wonder how Seeker Pentaghast would take hearing some dirty little apostate was playing at being Herald,” the templar mused, looking me over. “Only an apostate would use daggers instead of a staff, after all. Trying to get a little leverage over us?”

I stared, waiting for him to move. “I'm here because we're all part of the Inquisition together. Or did you miss that part? As far as my identity, Cassandra's helping train today. I'd be happy to walk over with you and have it confirmed, if it means you'll then actually answer the question.”

“There's no need to bother the Seeker for an apostate,” he sneered, and I readied myself. Clearly he was either the leader or the bully of this group, and once I took him down, the balance of power would shift in my direction. Which meant unity and working together, not this stupid inner rivalry crap.

There. I was hit with a Silence, magic gone quiet inside me. And had it been the first time someone had done that to me, it would have stopped me. It was painful, the first few times. But then I'd adjusted to it, and while I'd never enjoy the experience, it didn't stop me. I tucked and rolled as the templar charged, and kicked out the back of his knee as he passed.

Someone in full templar armor made a horrible crash when they went over unexpectedly. He crumpled, completely expecting me to have stayed still and not remotely on any defensive. I rolled up to my feet and turned. Crossed my arms and stared down at him. “Isn't dealing with mages like this the problem? Not the solution?”

He roared, hauled himself to his feet, and charged again, not even bothering with a Silence. I sighed and stepped to the side, tripping him. Really, where had he trained, that he wasn't able to control his emotions better than this?

Wait. Crap. “You need lyrium, don't you? We don't have enough?” I hunkered down next to the one on the ground, touched his forehead before he moved away. “You're burning up. Are our supplies that low?”

He snarled, tried another swing at me from the ground. I rolled away again, coming back up onto my feet. Lyrium withdrawal was a common punishment in Ostwick, probably because it had involved body denial. “I'll talk with Adan. There are ways to mitigate the worst of withdrawal that we learned in Ostwick. I'll get it distributed while we work on getting regular supplies.”

“Thank you, Herald,” said one of the others, a woman that had stood back from the fighting. “If you don't mind, I'll come with you. My name is Lysette.”

“Will he be all right?”

She barely glanced at the templar I'd left on the ground. “Elrick prefers to speak with his fists at the best of times. When his head's on straight, he believes in punching the correct people, at least. When it isn't, he'll take whoever's in front, and most of us have learned to not be that person.”

“Is he a problem?”

Lysette sighed. “I don't know? But the rest of us, at least, could use any help you can give us. And at least, he has no particular issue with mages over anyone else. I think he's just been on the lyrium too long.”

“Ah.” One of the problems with older templars was when their minds started to wander, memories lost and addled until they became only blunt instruments to those that directed them. Yet another way the Chantry failed those that served it best. “I can't say this will actually help someone that far lost. But those who aren't so deeply lost in the lyrium should benefit. It's a chance, at any rate.”

“Speaking for myself, I welcome the help.”

I glanced over at the tone. “You're wondering why.”

“You were just attacked by one of us.”

“I was attacked by a person. Not the entire templar order, or the templars with the Inquisition, or however else you're looking at it. One person. More, a person that's struggling with withdrawal, and is not at their best because of it. Of course I could blame everyone. But I like to think better of myself than that.” I sighed. “I saw what was happening in the Hinterlands. Both sides are a mess. Both sides have their faults. If you ask me, we've all been let down by the power structure, and war was always inevitable.”

“Does that mean you won't bring back the Circles?”

“Not as they were. That's just asking for the same problem again down the road. And as someone that lived in one of those Circles, there was a lot wrong. The idea may have been a good one, but the result has been a lot of suffering and horror for people over something they cannot control.”

“What do you intend, then?”

I laughed. “I don't know. First we have to survive long enough to get the Breach truly closed. Then, assuming I survive that, which I'm not counting on, we need to come together to find a solution that protects both the mageborn and the common folk. There are reasons for the Circles, and those reasons won't go away just because the Circles themselves are flawed.”

“I am relieved,” she said finally. “I was afraid, when I heard you were a mage, that your goal was to destroy all constraints.”

I snorted. “Speaking personally, it sounds great. It's right up there with endless supplies of chocolate and a life of sinful luxury. But that's where it stays – a dream. In anything resembling reality, I know the constraints can serve both sides. When done reasonably, and fairly, and the mages are treated like humans throughout. And the templars, too. In theory, you're necessary.”

“In theory.”

“In practice, you were failed too. Here's Adan.”

Lori and Meera were inside, too, working away. “Lori. You remember the recipe for peace?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Of course I do, but why?”

“Lyrium shortage.”

Lori nodded. “Okay, we can get the basic things set up right away.”

“Get me a list of whatever you don't have by nightfall? If I'm going to the city anyway, I might as well buy something useful while I'm there.”

Meera looked up at me, pouted. “Not chocolate?”

I ruffled her hair. “Only if there's enough for everyone, Meera. But I'll see what I can do.”

“What is the recipe for peace?” Lysette asked.

“What we called the set of things that helped calm down the templars. We couldn't admit it, the Reverend Mother and Knight-Commander would have purged the tower.”

Lysette gasped. “They what?”

“For interfering with punishment by mitigating it? Making the templars less likely to hurt us out of their own pain and anger? What do you think they would do? Which reminds me, I have got to find out if the rumors I heard about how Ostwick fell are true.”

Lysette looked confused. “Weren't you there?”

“No, I left earlier. Lori, put the priority on the headache one. We can hang the sachets everywhere, if need be, and if I remember correctly we should have adequate supplies for those. If you're set, I'm going to go see what our mages are up to.” A nod to Lysette on my way out, while she struggled with the idea. Poor girl must have been a novice.


End file.
